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Banned
A Saga of Dreams Discussion
[FONT="]The Cacophony of Banners
Part One[/FONT]
[FONT="]The white warm light that illuminated the entirety of the wall and surrounding lands had occurred one month ago. Everything after that had been wrong as far as Jon Snow could tell. The night had become filled with a strange and unknown sky. The stars are wrong, the moon is wrong, and even the day is wrong. Something about the way the sun moves above, the way blues and colors of the sky. There were no other words for it, though others had tried. Dolorous Edd had filled the dining hall with japes, but even he did not seem to be himself. Jon’s brothers of the Night’s Watch had many a sleepless nights just as the King’s Men had and the first week had been riotous. Janos Slynt and Alliser Thorne had plotted a rebellion amongst the brothers against him and Jon had nearly lost his life in the attempt, but Alliser Thorne had died in the jaws of Ghost while Janos had lost his head later while stammering about how he had friends at court and the gods were against baseborn filth and fire demons. Their companions were scattered throughout the wall’s 15 ruined keeps or given over to a noose. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]A small respite for Jon had been that Samwell and Maester Aemon had been held up in Eastwatch, otherwise a blind old man and his stammering friend would have been easily slain. After the worst of the rebellion had been quelled Jon Snow could only try to put the pieces back together. Scared, scarred, and weakened, Jon Snow had been forced to acquiesce to some of Stannis Baratheon’s demands and cede more than just the Night Fort. Five castles on the wall now do not belong to the Night’s Watch, but it had been the best move available to him. Wildlings were flooding through the wall to escape the dangers and fears beyond it and were settling into the gift. Stannis had sent ravens to all of the major houses informing them of his rightful claim to the Iron Throne, his war against the others, and his demands that the wildlings be allowed to settle freely. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]Which has led to something queer. The Umbers of Last Hearth, the Mormonts of Bear Island, and the Karstarks of Karhold had sent their own ravens in return. All of them denied that a war had ever taken place and referred to King Robert feasting at Winterfell. Jon had found that hard to believe and had sent out scouts and riders, as had Stannis. Jon Snow had now been summoned to the King’s Tower yet again by King Stannis. Jon could guess at the reason why, another raven had arrived from a northern house. Perhaps one of his riders had stumbled on something important. Perhaps King Stannis wanted yet another one of the walls forts. One thing was certain, Stannis would want something from him. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]As Jon Snow climbed the stairs of the King’s Tower he found himself feeling much warmer than he had before. The weather had been much better than it had any right to be as far as Jon was concerned, but it could ensure that there was one last harvest before the coming of winter. Ghost was following behind him along with a few of his brothers, a precaution that Jon had more or less been forced on him after the attempt on his life. He was Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch and Maester Aemon had stated that he would always be vulnerable to another attack until his brothers knew for certain what was to come. Melisandre, Stannis’s Red Woman, had said very much the same thing though she had been certain that this was a gift from the Lord of Light. Still, as Jon Snow was about to enter the Stannis’s chamber he was asked to turn over his arms and leave his wolf and guards where they were. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]Jon Snow had almost regretted that decision after seeing Stannis, Melisandre, and a few of his lords from the south. Stannis’s face was a deep red and his words were spat out with venom. When he was not speaking his teeth were audibly being ground and clenched from across the room. He paid Jon Snow no mind, but after some moments Melisandre had been able to calm him enough for him to see that Jon Snow was standing silently in the doorway. Then he barked one order at those around him: “Get Out!” The lords, some confused and others angry, fled the room moving behind Jon to leave. Stannis’s face began to drain from its bright red color as he breathed to calm himself. When Melisandre began to speak more words Stannis added another command “You too woman.” When she left Stannis ordered Jon to sit and hear the newest treasons that had come. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]“Did you hear? Some bloody mummer has written a letter on behalf of my brother. The creature stole his seal and claimed that it came from Winterfell. They even got his signature right, I can’t even tell the difference.” Stannis must have seen something on Jon’s face that he didn’t like and clenched hard before throwing a crumpled parchment to him. “See for yourself if you doubt me. Gods know I would have thought you were a fool if you didn’t.” Stannis squirmed visibly in his chair. Gods? As if hearing Jon Snow’s thoughts Stannis corrected himself in his next sentence. “Melisandre thinks this is a gift from the Lord of Light, this good weather and that warm damnable glow. It was as if summer had come and the Wall had not stopped weeping since. Gift!?” Stannis spat. “No one can call this thing a gift. The warm weather has made the wildlings not yet in my service bolder in their defiance. Others are scared out of their minds by the lightshow a moon’s turn ago. This… This thing is not a gift. It’s a curse! Some of the riders that returned to me seem to corroborate all these lies that have been coming. They even brought along some small folk who prattled on, not even knowing that there was a war ravaging their homes not a fortnight ago. What are you doing? Read! I command it.”[/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]Jon had watched and listened to Stannis’s words and he knew the truth of it. Everything that had happened since the skies themselves were changed was wrong, Jon could feel it in a way that was not just a change in the weather. He did as he was bid and unraveled the parchment. Jon had not believed it at first, but he felt as though he recognized the hand. His eyes moved across the page studying all of the words. Robert was threatening to hang the fool that sent these ravens and had some choice words for Stannis should he had been here. “It even sounds like him.” Stannis had said quietly, his rage given away to something more subdued. He was tired, Jon saw. “Melisandre cannot see anything in her flames about this, but she knows that I must go out and challenge the person claiming to be my brother.” Jon said nothing, he just shifted his gaze from Stannis to the paper and back at Stannis. “I wish it were true” Stannis said at last, “If Robert is alive then maybe Renly is alive. Perhaps the Lord of Light had done something that I thought was impossible and returned my family to me. Gave me a second chance to do everything right and remove the abominations from his side and tell him the truth.” [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]“It may be so, your grace.” Jon said after another moments pause. Stannis raised his eyes to Jon’s and his face was filled with skepticism. Jon could tell he was searching him for something. “Are you a fool Jon Snow? My brother is dead. My realm has bled and pretenders have tore itself to pieces. I have too few men presiding over ruins. This letter is no more than a mummer’s farce that will ruin me if I allow it.” Jon looked at the paper. “Your grace, I recognize this hand as well.” Jon paused a moment and then continued “This letter was written by the hand of Maester Luwin who served my father and taught me letters and sums. He was killed along with my brothers when Winterfell was sacked.” Stannis looked at Jon for a long moment, scanning his face before he began to speak. “If you’re lying about this…” Jon did not need for him to finish, it would mean his head. Stannis had made a similar threat before and would make more in the future. Yet as he was being dismissed Stannis’s face softened. “Perhaps we’re both fools Jon. Prepare whatever you need to Lord Snow. We will depart on the morrow at first light.”[/FONT]
[FONT="]Mud covered the land that man and horse treaded on. Robert had cursed the late summer snows in his march to Winterfell, but there was not a hint of that now as far as Eddard could tell. The light had made Winterfell and the King’s party uneasy and the wave of warmer weather had a visible effect on the roads and lands in the north. Not as difficult as snow, but mud had its own dangers for any army trying to march through it. As Warden of the North and Lord Paramount Robert had no choice but to rely on him to gather as much forces as he could and meet the challenge posed by the man claiming to be Stannis Baratheon. Robert had cursed and threatened and reddened every time the name was mentioned, and since Stannis is the Master of Ships he would have a large host of his own to compliment the wildlings. When moving against wildlings the best way to attack is with a small disciplined host of man on horse to break them. Scattered they were no real threat, Ned knew. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]Haste was of the essence however. The longer Ned stayed in Winterfell the more wildlings would spill into the north. Robert had wanted to amass all the strength of the north and bring it down upon the wall, but that would take too long and leave the north far too vulnerable. Ravens were sent to Last Hearth, Karhold, the Dreadfort, and Deepwood Motte. The houses of the far north would gather along the King’s road near the Long Lake. Long Lake had been the sight of a number of battles between the Lords of Winterfell and the Kings Beyond the Wall. From there the large host would march north in several prongs and meet Stannis and the Wildlings there. Ships would be of no use on the wall, and the wall itself has no real defense against any army moving from the South. Robert had sent Ser Boros Blount of the Kingsguard to White Harbor and gather what ships they could there and from there attempt to rally the strength of the seven kingdoms. Word has reached Winterfell that the Neck has been cut off from the south, but perhaps a route by sea will prove better. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]The real trouble with this Stannis on the Wall has been with the messages contained within his calls for fealty. Robb a usurper who perished at the hands of Lord Walder Frey while under guest’s rights, Bran and Rickon slayed by Theon Greyjoy, Winterfell sacked and broken, Roose Bolton a traitor and Warden of the north, House Tully broken, the Lannisters and Tyrells in control of King’s Landing, Robert dead, Jon Snow Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch, the abominable incest between Jamie and Cersei and the accusations against the King’s own brood. All of it was… too much to believe. Some of it felt as if there was truth to be found, but all together it read like the ramblings of a mad man. If not for the sheer multitude of ravens sent from the Wall, the day the skies changed, and the neck crashed into the seas Ned would have just sent Benjen with a few hundred men to go back to the Wall and Robert would laugh at the absurdity of it all. Ned would not laugh. It is said that laughter dies in the throats of men during winter and for that reason the Starks had so little humor, but even he would threaten a smile at this nonsensical tale after the sting of its treasons wore off.[/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]Yet as more time passed the harder it was for Ned to truly dismiss Stannis’s ramblings. Word of men of the night’s watch and Stannis’s men being sent from the wall being captured and questioned reaches his ears near daily, and the tales they tell even under sharp questioning remains virtually the same. The truth of this is something only the Gods know and at times Lord Eddard Stark wished for nothing more than to return to the Godswood and find comfort alongside the weirwood heart tree and the gods the dwell there. When he could not and the Lord of Winterfell was forced to wonder on might have beens, could have beens, and guessing towards the future part of him was always drawn back down to the past. His sister. “Promise me Ned” she would say, fearful and dying. Only promising his sister’s ghost would relieve her fear and allow Lyanna to pass on.[/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]It was only when it began to rain that Ned halted his small army’s trek through the mud and commanded the construction of camps to wait out the storm. Robert and the Kingslayer both would have the army move on through a torrential downpour, but doing that would only ensure chaos, hardship, and the loss of men. In the north the rain is a dreadful thing that can chill a man to his bones, unlike the in the south. When Robert found Ned waiting for his tent to be raised he roared and cursed, angry and bitter that the march was halted. “It is the rain you should curse, not me your grace.” Eddard finally said after Robert had nearly winded himself. “Damn it Ned! We should be marching and mounting treasonous heads on spikes! Instead we are stuck here in the mud and muck and filth. I want to kill something Ned.”[/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]The rains did more than delay us, Ned knew. They delayed Stannis as well and would send the wildlings into hiding until the rains have passed. “Your grace, the Umbers and Boltons are gathering near the Long Lake. By the last word we received from Karhold would put them less than a fortnight from there. The Glovers of Deepwood Motte are not long behind us. I can assure you no northman will risk being caught in a heavy rain.” Robert snorted “No ‘Northman will risk it’, but Stannis is not a Northman and the wildlings are savages. Do you think a little rain will put an end to their marching?” “He would be more the greater fool for it. His men will be beaten down with rain and sickness. Whatever host he has will be exhausted and his strength marginalized. Besides we hav-” “You think I don’t know this? Seven hells! A mad man sits on the Wall claiming to be my brother spouting all sorts of treasonous tales. Do you see a war happening here? Are we dead men Ned? Bugger that.” [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]Eddard was silent for a moment as Robert fumed and ranted but when it was done he began to speak “Your Grace?” “If you call me that again Ned I’ll put your head next to Stannis’s. I warned you before we’re more to each other than that. Closer than brothers, though I never loved my brothers.” Ned smiled and for a moment Robert’s face softened at that as well. Ned wanted to speak, to ask him if it was possible for any of it to be true. He could not, it was not his place and if it were true it would ruin him. He could do nothing but let the rain chill him to the bone.It was only when Robert called for wine that Ned began to speak again. "Robert I do not know what to believe, but I have faith in the man you were at the Trident. A strong man, a leader of men, and true. If the gods are just we will know the truth of this once and for all." Robert looked at him strangely for a moment, as if only now seeing the man dripping next to him.
Before he could speak a rider raced with water pounding off his cloak and armor. The man had nearly killed his horse by the way he was riding the poor beast. Robert cursed before calling out "What is it now?" The man had the arms of House Umber sown upon his breast. "My Lord," The rider began facing Eddard Stark before he noticed Robert's helm and immediately turned to say "Your Grace, Ser Axell Florent has come with a message from Stannis. They wish to parlay with us."[/FONT]
[FONT="]The King’s tent was leaning too heavily on one side in the growing sagginess of the mud while the rains had long since soaked through the cloth that adorned its wooden frame. Outside the sky had resembled a sloppily done patchwork of steel and iron colored cotton, but it was darkening now. Davos Seaworth could not tell if it was the time of day or the growing storm that had been the cause. He had mistaken the darkening sky for the coming of night before much to his sorrow when he was a smuggler out of Fleabottom, but he soon learned how to measure out an oncoming storm on the seas. This was land though, and Davos had been continually reminded that the weather behaves differently when one stood leagues from the tides. Davos had never been a man to spend much time far from the sea and recent changes had only made it that much worse. Nothing was as it was when they had landed on the Wall, the changing skies had led Salladhor Saan curse Stannis mercilessly and leave his services in search of home. The Lyseni pirate was an expert navigator who had boasted to know every shore along the narrow sea, but he had depended upon knowing the night sky when he was not in sight of shore. The change had made an already dangerous autumn journey many times more perilous and he refused to bring Davos to White Harbor. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]He offered me a ship though[/FONT][FONT="] Davos thought and a fine crew. All I need do was join Salladhor and become a pirate. That chapter of Davos's life was done though, gone with his service to King Stannis. Davos absent mindedly grasped for his luck, the severed digits of his left hand that he had kept around his neck. Gone, I have lost my luck. Davos had been frightened by the changes that this past moons turn had brought him. He had a wife and children waiting for him in the Stormlands. He used to have many proud and strong sons, but they had been robbed from him at the Blackwater. He only had a few sons left, two babes far away and one serving as a squire for King Stannis. Davos had never been a religious man before, but ever since that day he had prayed for the mother’s mercy and the father’s justice. Never aloud, his King served different Gods now. The Red Woman, Melisandre’s God. She was dangerous, Davos knew. Part of Davos had believed that this was her doing after he had decided the Seven had no part in this. Her or her God. Yet even as he felt fearful and angry part of him was overjoyed: If Robert is alive, as all we have heard of tells us, then Davos’s sons may be alive further south. He could return home and hug his children. They will not drown or burn in that monstrous battle. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]“Onion Knight are you going to stand there admiring the clouds until sun goes down or are you going to counsel me?” Stannis asked sharply from just inside the Tent. Davos then noticed several Queensmen far down the line of camps walking away from the King’s tent. “I’m sorry Your Grace, it will not happen again.” Davos said half by reflex. As Davos entered the tent a strong warmth went through him. Outside was cold and wet, but here by the King’s fires it was warm and dry. The King walked by a desk overflowing with parchments sitting atop a large map of the North. Everything below Winterfell was covered in papers, but all of the lands north of it were clearly visible. “My Lord Hand,” his King spoke after a moment “I will hear your words on this. Do you believe that my Brother is alive?” Davos paused a moment to think. He wished that Robert was alive with all his being, his life would mean the lives of his children, but he forced himself to hold back his hopes. “I lack the wisdom of greater men and would be better suited on a ship that to tell you the trueness and falseness in magic.”[/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]Stannis appeared agitated by his response. “I did not ask you about truth or falseness, only your beliefs.” Davos searched the room, as if hoping to find an answer laying somewhere. Even if there was one, Davos could not use it. The Onion Knight had been illiterate most of his life and had only recently begun learning his letters. He could read a parchment aloud, but with difficulty and would sometimes need correction. “I believe he is alive, Your Grace. I have been searching the villages and taverns and have seen no signs of war. Everyone I have asked have told very much the same tale.” Stannis gave half a laugh at that. “Yes, and Ser Axell Florent swears to me on R’hllor’s light that the King lives. Robert has agreed to parlay with us across the Last River. The Umbers have taken defensive positions all along the Kingsroad and behind the Last River so it seems that I have little choice but to consent to that.” Stannis appeared more amused by that than annoyed. He is a man who has found a brother he knew to be dead Davos thought and the doubts he had over him have largely vanished. It seemed as if King Stannis had gained back the same that Davos had. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]“What does the Lady Melisandre see in her flames?” Davos added, wearily. Stannis snorted, “What does she see in her flames? I wonder.” Stannis had begun to grind his teeth and clench his jaw. “She sees little and less these days and none of it is certain. The few visions that were granted to her have left me wanting. She is looking for more as we speak, but from what she has told me there is far more to this than just a change in the times. Something has happened to the World Davos, and she does not know what.” The words sent a chill down Davos’s spine. Could the Gods truly be so cruel as to keep his sons in their watery graves? “Jon Snow believes that I should bring along some of the giants and mammoths that have come over to my service to show the truthness of what I say. He says that his Lord Father would never believe the story I would say without some measure of proof.” Davos saw the truth of that. “Your Grace, you should take the Lord Commander with you to meet with Robert. Eddard Stark will surely be there and he would be of far more use to you there than back in camps.” [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]Stannis looked rather dismissive of that notion. “I had thought of that before, but that brings its own problems as well. The northmen will be suspicious of the boy and believe I may have murdered the previous Lord Commander to put him in charge of the Wall. My men think I cannot hear their whispers, but I am no fool Ser Davos. Those that believe part of my story have more dreams than sense and they taint the truth that I am telling.” Stannis began to grind his teeth again. Davos thought for a moment before saying “All the more reason to bring him along and dispel their doubts.” Stannis searched his Onion Knight a second time, before nodding in agreement. “That might serve. Very well, My Lord Hand you may go.” Davos turned and began to walk back towards the dark rainy gloom before Stannis spoke again: “Before you leave I have one last question. If Robert is alive and well, am I still King?” Davos could not answer him.[/FONT]
[FONT="]Septa Mordane was keeping a pleasant conversation going with the Princess Myrcella while she, Jeyne Poole, herself, and her stupid sister Arya working on their stitches. It was a skill that all proper high born women should know, as Septa Mordane had always said. Sansa never saw the Queen working on her stitches or encountered many southern high born ladies, but she could not see a reason why the Septa would lie to her so she supposed it was true. The Queen had come to visit them just the day before, but today she had kept her distance. Sansa did not know why though, King Robert was supposedly a great warrior who had smashed Prince Rhaegar’s forces along the Trident and her Father would never lose in battle against a man who has turned his back against all the laws of Gods and Men. There were no songs sung about the victories of monstrous fire worshipers, and all true knights would rise up against Lord Stannis. Her Joffrey had said that his uncle was a traitor and that his father would soon give him a traitor’s death. The thought had frightened her for a moment, but her sweet prince had quickly softened and he was so gallant that day. Her lion was not afraid of anything. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]Unlike herself. Sansa had taken the news that the neck was gone tremendously hard. She was going to be betrothed to Joffrey, everyone else said so. She had been ready to plead with her mother to allow marriage and go to King’s Landing. That had all changed when the skies turned and all manner of strange reports came in. They troubled her, more than she cared to admit. The Septa, her mother, and the Queen had all done their best to put on a brave face, but Sansa was not stupid and she saw that they were hiding some fear and could tell that something had gone horribly wrong. Only Arya, her stupid little sister, was not afraid. She had actually liked it, and said she had seen a hundred new stars that night. Sometimes Sansa wondered whether or not Arya was her true sister, she looked more like Jon than any of her mother’s children. Her mother had denied that, but the thought came nevertheless. It made her so mad sometimes, her sister. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]As if by some magic the Septa had noticed Sansa’s inner thoughts and came up to inspect her stitches. “Oh Sansa, you had done such beautiful work when you started out, but now they are all crooked and warped.” The Septa looked disappointed, and it made Sansa feel stupid and ashamed. It was all Arya’s fault. If she had not made her angry, if she had been a proper and good little sister like Princess Myrcella, then she would not have made such a mistake. “My sweet child can you tell me what is troubling you?” What is troubling me? Everything. Everything but my Prince and the Queen. “Nothing Septa, it is just…” Sansa stammered thinking of an excuse and not finding any “Stannis” she blurted out and the second thought came easier then “And the skies. I just don’t know Septa.” Myrcella looked up from her needlework paling as if the reminder had caused her discomfort and even Arya had seemed to take interest. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]“Sansa trust in your Lord Father. He has always done right by you and I have no doubt that he and King Robert will put an end to Stannis’s failed rebellion.” The Septa smiled reassuringly. Sansa had said only the first words to come to mind, but it was only then that she realized that the thoughts had weighed heavily on her and the Septa did make her feel better. “Robert is going to smash Stannis at the Long Lake just as he smashed Prince Rhaegar at the Trident” said Arya proudly and self-assured. Arya was smiling at Sansa, but Sansa had to frown at her. “It is not proper for a Lady to speak in such a manner Arya” the Septa said in a correcting tone but Arya didn’t seem to care and the Septa kept on talking with only a chastising look “But yes, there is a precedent established at the Trident. Dragonstone is a harsh place besides, Stannis cannot have much men of his own. Do you remember the bannermen sworn to Dragonstone Arya?” Arya scowled and Jeyne Poole looked confused. “House Velayron” spoke Princess Myrcella in a way that might have been mistaken for a question. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]“Correct Princess Myrcella, along with House Celtigar and Bar Emmon. These are noble houses of great prestige, but they do not compare in terms of strength or influence to the King, Lord Stark, or many of his Bannermen. Children, you have nothing to fear in this regard.” The Septa spoke in a matter-of-fact speech that left no room for further argument. The Septa was about to return to her station when the Princess Myrcella asked “What about the skies Septa? What about the South? When will we be able to go home?” Myrcella had looked half her age when she asked those questions and nearing the end there were tears in her eyes. The Septa looked at her, her previous air of certainly long since blown away. “I do not know child, but the seven will guide us through these trying times. Of that I am certain.” Myrcella said not a word for the rest of their time together and no one was paying any mind to their needlework.[/FONT]
[FONT="]Crack! [/FONT][FONT="]Two wooden swords met each other. Crack! Again the two wooden swords met. Again. Again. The butcher’s boy, Mycah, was many years older than Arya, but she was nearly his equal when it came to practicing at swordplay. She still remembered the first time she had practiced with Mycah and the bruises and scratches she had come home with. Her father had laughed and hugged her after Arya had given him some wild flowers she had picked. There was one blue rose that she had found once, but when she had showed it to him he became sad. Lord Eddard Stark was gone now, and had taken much of the castle garrison with him. Ser Rodrik Cassel and some others stayed behind, while men at arms from Torrhen’s Square had marched to reinforce the much weakened stronghold. Crack! Rodrik had refused to teach Arya how to use a blade. She had the feeling that her mother was behind it. Crack! She was always trying to make Arya into a proper southern lady. Crack! That’s Sansa, Arya thought, I will never be a Lady. I’m a wolf, a Stark of Winterfell. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]An opening, Arya lunged at the Butcher’s Boy with her wooden sword. The older boy had seen her coming, however, and moved just far enough out of the way to make her miss. Then Crack! And again Crack! Now Arya was on the defensive, moving backwards as Mycah advanced. She needed firm ground to find her footing, but all there was at Winterfell these days were muddy patches of earth these days and puddles everywhere from the heavy rains. Crack! Arya lost her sword and her knuckles had been kissed by the wooden sword. Mycah was smiling, a warm and simple face. Arya could tell that she was scowling as she sucked on her knuckles to dull the sting. Yet after a moment Arya smiled and she got onto her feet, covered from shoulder to heel in mud. After swipping some of the Mud from her body she grabbed a handful of the soaked earth and threw it at Mycah. He curse and flinched away, long enough for Arya to grab her now wet wooden sword and lunge after him. Disorientated it did not take long for the Butcher’s Boy to fall to the ground, red faced and angry. The anger quickly vanished nearly as soon as it appeared and Arya reached down to give him a hand.[/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]The older boy instead pulled her back down into the mud and got to his feet. Arya was about to dart to her feet and charge into Mycah when she heard a familiar voice from behind her call out her name in disbelief. “Arya!?” Arya turned to see Sansa standing just a few paces away mounted on a horse riding alongside Prince Joffrey. Lady kept a quiet gentle pace behind them and the Hound kept an even greater distance from the pair. Sansa was wearing one of her better dresses, but the bottom of the cloth and silk had been stained brown with mud. Joffrey was holding something in his hand hidden from Arya’s view. She thought it was a sword for a moment before she noticed that his sword ‘Lion’s Tooth’ was still in its scabbard. Instead she saw him lift a skin of wine to his lips and then he laughed in a cruel way that made her want to smack him. “Your sister? Who's the boy assaulting her?"[/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]Mycah immediately fell to one knee, but Arya would have none of that. “What are you doing here? Go away!” The prince was annoyed by that, she could tell. It was only when Joffrey had tried to get off his horse that she noticed that he was swaying with the movements of his horse. He’s drunk Arya thought, incredulous. When she looked at Sansa Arya could see some of the same movements in her as well. They are both drunk! “Sansa father only allows us one cup of wine and only at feasts!” Sansa blushed, redder now that she was in her cups. Arya had spent many long days with the men that served at Winterfell and she had seen many men and boys drunk, she had even tried it once or twice but she never liked the way it made her feel before or after. But this was Sansa, she never disobeyed her father or her mother. Joffrey had peeled his lips in a half smile half snarl at the comment. “My betrothed can have whatever she likes.” Sansa had shied away from that comment too. That made Arya mad. What had happened to her sister? She acted like she was such a fool around Joffrey. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]Nymeria had moved closer to Arya now, and looked at the new group. Arya’s direwolf stalked over to Lady and gave her a lick across the face and lied down alongside her. Arya gave Nymeria a quick glare, as if to scorn her for the act of betrayal. The Direwolf seemed to notice Arya’s feelings all too well and soon returned to her muddy and her head low. That was a victory, if only a small one. Yet by now Joffrey was on his feet and coming towards Arya moving a bit too far to the right and left with each step he made. The Hound had dismounted and followed him, with a hateful look upon his face. All around the training grounds others were taking notice and looking on with interest. Mycah was still on his knee but as the prince approached he was paling visibly even though the grey clouds above had made him seem the color of milk already. That had unsettled her, so she moved to Joffrey in a way that headed off his march to the Butcher’s Boy. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]When Joffrey saw Arya standing in his way he looked confused. “What are you doing? Move aside little girl I have business to take care of.” The Hound put an arm on the prince’s shoulder after a large crowd had gathered. He shoved his hand away and roared a curse at him. Sansa was begging him to stop and shouting at Arya to do as he says, adding that she was ruining everything. When Joffrey had tried to force his way past Arya she gave him a quick shove and he fell backwards into the Hound, who prevented him from falling. With a fury on him Joffrey charged and pushed Arya to the ground and started calling her names, unspeakable names. In an instant a dozen onlookers began shouting and Joffrey turned to face them with eyes almost glazed over, drunk on wine and pure emotion. He was barking orders to the Hound that Arya could not truly hear but when she saw Jon’s face in the crowd she had tears in her eyes. Jon Snow turned and called to someone and then raced to her and to Joffrey. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]Jon punched Joffrey as he was giving him a command. This time she heard, the boy prince was commanding the training yard to be cleared with swords, arrows, and spears. He was threatening to harm them, to kill them, if they did not obey. The Hound immediately grabbed Jon from behind, lifting him clear from the ground, and threw him into the mud. Sansa screamed, Arya shouted, and Joffrey was on his feet with cold steel in his hand making hacking and slashing motions in the thin air. By then all of Winterfell was out in the open. Ghost and Nymeria both had charged at Joffrey, and then a bellowing roar came from the tiniest of men. The dwarf, Tyrion Lannister, had come mounted on a specially saddled horse. The Queen and Lady Catelyn were behind him with horror on their faces. Joffrey was hacking and kicking at the wolves, but they were too quick and he hadn’t noticed his uncle. Tyrion and a few Lannister guards were soon upon them. Joffrey then turned and nearly cut his uncle’s arm off as he did and pointed his sword at him. That was all it took, Tyrion slapped the boy prince right across the face and wrenched the sword from his hand and threw it into the mud. He barked a command at the Lannister guards. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]Nymeria had a deep cut along her side, Ayra had only now just noticed. “NO!” she cried, “Nymeria come here!” and then the direwolf came slowly to her, bleeding and staggering. Arya hugged her direwolf closely and cried even harder. She hated prince Joffrey. Hated. Hated. HATED! She called for help, but none could hear her. The Hound was carrying Prince Joffrey like a sack of flour over his shoulder back into the castle, Jon Snow was holding Ghost in his arms, his direwolf had red all over his coat, and Robb was next to him, shouting angrily for someone or something. Arya couldn’t hear anything anymore. It was too loud and Nymeria’s blood was staining her muddy cloths. It was only then that she noticed a figure holding her. It was her mother and as a drop of water fell down her cheeks Arya knew it was raining. [/FONT]
[FONT="]Winterfell’s natural spring had made the inside of the castle warm, at times too warm even for Catelyn. Now, however, she was wet and shaking. Sansa and Arya were sent to rooms deep within the castle to warm themselves and change into different cloths, Catelyn herself had forced herself to pry away from her daughters and change. She was furious. Joffrey, the prince, was a guest in her halls. He took part in her meat and mead. Yet, he had nearly killed her daughter. If not for the direwolves, if not for Jon Snow, if not for Tyrion Lannister, she might be burying a child. Pure fury was growing within Catelyn, an emotion that she had not experienced in years. She nearly tore her wet clothes off her body as she dried herself. A maid servant had brought her a gown, Catelyn gave not a single thought to the garb as she put it on and the exited her bedchambers to get back to her girls. They would need her now, she had to be with them. It was only when she was nearly to where they were being kept that she realized she was wearing the Tully colors. Family. Duty. Honor. Those were the words of her house and they reminded Catelyn of her course.
She tried to force herself to become calm and reassuring to her children. Sansa had just seen the boy who was going to be her betrothed turn against her sister and nearly kill her. She would be hurting, wounded, and betrayed. Arya… She was shaking and crying Catelyn remembered she was hugging her wolf and calling for Jon, calling for Ned. Catelyn had never seen her youngest daughter so terrified, so wounded. As her mother Catelyn felt her fear, felt her pain, and she began to shake again with the fury that it brought back to her. Robb was standing by the door, he eyes staring down at the floor. Catelyn had thought he was sad or worried when she first saw him, but as she looked down to see what he was looking at she saw his sword unsheathed. “Robb, what are you doing?” Catelyn tried to sound stern, but there was a mix of scorn meant for others with a hint of grief in her voice. Robb lifted his face, there were tears forming in his eyes but none had fallen. Instead there was a face twisted with anger.
“Killing princes.” Catelyn wasn’t sure what to say to that except “No, now’s not the time for that. Your sisters need you, I need you. You cannot cause a war under our house.” Robb stared at her for a moment before a scowl appeared on his face. “You have nothing to fear mother, Helman Tallhart has escorted the royal family to a wing of the castle and has them under constant guard. Jory Cassel has taken command of that guard and has kept me far away from there. It was if he knew what I meant to do and he forced me to come here.” Catelyn knew she had to thank Jory and Helman and she was relieved to hear that, but Catelyn wanted nothing more than to see Joffrey in the dungeons. “Robb, there will be a time when you are the Master of Winterfell, but now you are a representative of your lord father. Would you have it said that the son of Eddard Stark had killed an unarmed boy a few years your junior, a royal prince no less?” Catelyn forced herself to say those words, words that she knew would shame him, but inside her heart Catelyn could never be more proud of him. Not only was he willing to stand up for his sisters, he was willing to put his emotions aside when it was needed.
Robb, however, did not appreciate the words and at first it seemed as though Catelyn had slapped him in the face. It was silent for a moment before Robb spoke wounded near as much as angry “I would not have killed your precious Joffrey unarmed, I would have sobered him up and put a sword in his hands before I slew him in combat. It would be less than he deserves.” Robb spat and pushed his way past his mother, muttering some crude courtesy asking for his leave. Catelyn said nothing and Robb did not wait for an answer. Grey Wind, Robb’s direwolf, made a low growl before following after Robb. Sobered him up? Catelyn asked herself dumfounded. Joffrey was drunk? In a way that had only made it worse and she was becoming angry all over again when the door in front of her opened. Maester Luwin was coming out, pale and covered in blood. “The girls!?” Catelyn blurted out, reflexively. Maester Luwin looked down knowingly and raised his head and forced a smile. A thin, quivering smile. “Rattled, scared, and frightened. Arya is covered in scratches and bruises, but no deep cuts. They are both fine and warming by the brasier.”
Catelyn was visibly relieved. It took a moment for the blood to register again, her mind jumping. The direwolves Catelyn finally realized. “What of Sansa’s and Arya’s wolf pups?” Catelyn had been grateful for their presence. When Arya was threatened they had rushed to defend her, Catelyn had saw them dancing around Joffrey’s blade as he hacked and cursed. When Ned, Robb, and Bran had come home with those wolfpups – three male two female – Catelyn had taken it as a sign. Just as she had taken the antler that had killed the wolfpups mother, a monstrously large direwolf, as a sign. Now it appeared as though the signs were coming true. Joffrey had nearly killed her daughter and would have. If not for the imp. The thought came unbidden. And the boy. For a brief moment Catelyn had the grace to feel ashamed, but the thought was forced from her mind when Maester Luwin began speaking. “Sansa’s wolf is unharmed. Lady, that’s what she is called, had been as dazed and powerless as Sansa. It was only when she screamed did the direwolf leap into action and charge the prince. There was some blood in the wolf’s mouth, but it appears as though none of the blood was her own.”
Catelyn had nodded in approval and she once again looked at Master Luwin’s cloak. “Arya’s direwolf, Nymeria, had been the first to attack and suffered what seems to be a broken bone and a sword blow along her left side. It had bled heavily, but the wound was shallow and once she was bound the wolf it was no longer in any danger.” Catelyn noticed the sound of sobbing in the door and was about to make her way into the room when Luwin continued. “The worse off was Jon’s albino wolf. When Jon rushed to confront Prince Joffrey the wolf charged with him. Nymeria received with a shallow cut and a broken bone, but with Ghost the cut had been deep and the wolf pup was kicked with such a force that several of the poor beast’s ribs were broken. I do not know if the wolf will live. Jon himself was injured, but he has refused all treatment until his wolf was attended. He is in another room and I was heading off to attend him.” For a moment Catelyn wanted to refuse Maester Luwin and order him to stay with her daughters, but she immediately felt soiled after the thought crossed her mind. The boy and his wolf had done all they could to protect her daughter, it would be cruel and dishonorable to not let Maester Luwin attend to him. There were six pups, not five. Catelyn suddenly remembered. An albino runt for Eddard Stark’s other son.
Maester Luwin passed her by when Catelyn gave his assent for him to leave. She was gathered her courage and went into the room. The brasier was hot and dry, with her youngest daughter sitting in front of a pile of furs. Arya was only half dressed with some bandages and ointments covering her. Catelyn could tell she had been crying by the way some of the colors smeared in elongated lines that followed the curvature of her cheeks. She had her father’s face. Ned’s face. Ned’s eyes. In front of her bundled in the blankets was her direwolf. Catelyn had not noticed it until she saw Lady licking was seemed be one of the furs. Her heart went out for the pup, but it was not the pup that concerned her now. It was her daughter. Catelyn had tried to marshal her courage but it was fading from her. The anger that she had been trying to keep down abandoned her without Catelyn even noticing. Instead there was fear, pain, and sadness. When Arya turned to face her, tears had started to swell in her eyes. Before Catelyn had a thought cross her mind she knelt down and embraced her daughter. The two of them cried, but Catelyn had at the very least stopped herself from sobbing.
Sansa was there too, dazed and still registering what had just happened less than an hour ago. Catelyn had saw her too, and it tore her apart that there were not two of her. She felt unmotherly when she kissed Arya’s forehead and pulled away. Arya had seen and she rubbed the tears away from her face angrily. Catelyn was proud of Arya too, and she forced herself to smile for her. With wetness still all along her cheeks she felt as though her smile was even less convincing than Maester Luwin. Sansa’s eyes had a deep red around them, but any tears she may have shed were dried by the brazier. She could not tell what was lying beneath those eyes as they looked blankly at the fire. Catelyn hugged her eldest daughter and was speaking soothing words. “You’re safe now.”, “I’m here with you.”, and other phrases that came by instinct. She repeated them over, and over, and over again until Sansa finally broke her daze and began sobbing. “I tried to stop them” she cried “I tried to tell her to do as she was told, to not make him angry.”
For a moment Catelyn wasn’t sure want to say to that and she merely held her daughter in her arms. Was Sansa blaming Arya? Catelyn couldn’t believe that, wouldn’t believe that. No sister would choose near a stranger over her own sister, no scion of riverrun would put something above family. She rubbed Sansa’s back and held her. Catelyn could feel the wetness of her tears falling onto her gown and that made her hold tighter. It was only when Sansa said something Catelyn would never have thought she would say, dreaded that she would say, did Catelyn let go of her daughter. “It was all Arya’s fault. She could see that Joffrey had been drinking. She provoked him. She didn’t listen! She was ruining everything!” It was more than Catelyn could bear. Every sentence was like a knife to her heart and Catelyn and forced herself to her feet, still half in disbelief. Arya began screaming at Sansa, half shouting half crying that Joffrey had tried to kill her, tried to kill Nymeria, had tried to kill Jon, Ghost, and everyone in winterfell. She had begun to break down when she looked at Nymeria again. Sansa was shouting back now, blaming her for everything. For provoking her prince.
“Enough!” Catelyn shouted angrily. Both girls stopped talking though tears were going down both of their faces. Arya was biting her lip, trying to stop her tears and failing. Arya looked hurt, she was feeling the same pain Catelyn was feeling. It took more than a few moments to process this… this… Catelyn could not find a word for it that suitably described it. Betrayal was not a word half as vile as she found for what had just happened. “Arya, leave us.” Arya looked at her blankly, her face beginning to twist in anger. “You always take her side!” the girl yelled, “I won’t leave Nymeria!” Catelyn was hurting now. “Leave. Check up on Jon and his direwolf.” Catelyn thought that would make her leave and it did. And thank him for me, she might have said, but Catelyn could not bring the words to her lips so they died on her tongue. After she had stormed out of the room Catelyn turned towards Sansa with pained eyes. Her eldest girl mistook that as an apology for Arya’s behavior. “Please don’t blame Joffrey, mother please. He was drunk and Arya pushed him. If Arya had only listened to what he said to her none of this would have happened. If only Jon hadn’t went where he didn’t belong and make things worse. He's not my brother, not a true one. He has evil blood in him, everyone says so. He attacked the prince! I hate him. I hate Jon! I hate Arya! They were so stupid and they are going to ruin everythi-” Catelyn’s hand was firm and strong.[/FONT]
[FONT="]Tyrion’s sister was pacing up and down the hall outside of Joffrey’s chamber. She was frightened, and for once in a long while Tyrion shared an emotion with his sister. “How could this happen?” Cersei was repeating herself again. “He was supposed to woo her, charm that little Stark girl into a marriage contract!” Tyrion had heard her go through this speech before, this was either the third or the fourth time. Sometimes she added some nuance to it, and once she seemed to hit a section where she was in a cycle of repeats within a greater circle of repeats. “I had already convinced the mother that it would be for the greater good for everyone involved to hasten the announcement of the contract. Stark had not given his consent before he left north, but I had just got the mother to consent! We were starting to plan the wedding arrangements when those wolf pups savaged my son.” Tyrion had rolled his eyes the second time he heard this. In truth it had been both of them that had convinced Catelyn Stark that it would be for the best, but Catelyn had still withheld official consent until she had confirmation with Eddard Stark. Sansa’s own begging and pleading had probably convinced her more than anything he or his sister had said. The wedding arrangements had been almost entirely been made up in Cersei’s head, she was speaking to Catelyn about that but the Lady’s face had been one of shallow courtesy. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]“Sweet sister would you do me the courtesy of shutting your mouth?” Cersei stopped mid step and turned. She was angry now, perhaps too angry. Anger made her stupid. Sometimes Tyrion had loved it when Cersei was too stupid from anger, it made her that much easier to fool and manipulate. Now though, now her anger was going into dangerous ground. She had twice suggested that she should order her guardsmen to break through the Starks and flee Winterfell. That would ruin us. “Calm down, this is not as bad as it seems.” Cersei stared with contempt now, half in disbelief. “Not as bad as it seems? Tyrion do you realize what has just happened? My son was savaged by wolves, the crowd at winterfell had started asking for his head, and you want me to believe this is not as bad as it seems!?” Her voice was much lower than Tyrion would have expected for the emotion that she seemed to put into each word as she released them from her mouth. “Correction, your son is fine. He only has two bite marks on him and he’s missing none of his important parts. I would be more worried about the Stark girls than Joffrey. If the younger girl dies you can say goodbye to Joffrey. There’s a chance he might leave with his head, but if he does he is bound to the wall and you’ll never see him again.” [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]Cersei had some tears building behind her eyes, but she was still filled with enough anger and fear that there was no room for any other emotions. Tyrion felt somewhat sorry for her, but he couldn’t let that get in the way of what needed to be said. “Your son nearly killed the Stark girl and what was worse he did it in public. If there had been no witnesses we could have played this off as a child’s squabble and it would be on Joffrey’s shoulders to convince Sansa and Arya that it was not him, but the wine and fear of losing his home that caused him to attack. Sansa at the very least is love drunk enough to believe that and that would be the end of this. But there are witnesses. Hundreds and Hundreds more. All of them love Ned Stark, when a stranger to them nearly kills one of Ned Stark’s daughters they will be competing with one another to bare themselves as a witness to confirm the guilt. All our hopes now rest upon us doing what we can to make amends with the Starks.” Cersei had been glaring at Tyrion with her green eyes. “How do we do that?” “Apologize, fall down our knees and beg for forgiveness. Give the Lady Catelyn all the consolation we can provide. Tell her that Joffrey was drunk, that he feared that he would never see home again, and how he had not even recognized her. I’m a dwarf, a terrible stunted figure. He a boy of a young age but much taller and stronger than me. I was unarmed and ripped the sword from him though I am by no means a fighting man. Tell her that, it also wouldn’t hurt if you say he was eating some mushroom or something. Say anything you want to make Joffrey seem so stupid and so downtrodden that he never even saw Arya and instead saw a boy attacking him.”[/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]“You would have me turn against my son?” Cersei was still glaring, but Tyrion could tell that he had gotten to her. There was not half as much fear in those green eyes of hers, but the rage was still there and Tyrion had to get rid of that. Cersei must look humble, grieving, and at the very least feign an interest in the welfare of Catelyn’s children. “No, I would have you save him. If you go around praising Joffrey and blaming Arya or Sansa or even the Butcher’s Boy, talking about how he was provoked or felt threatened you might as well be handing his head over to Lady Catelyn. We didn’t see half of the fight, but what we saw left no room for any understanding. That ended the moment he drew steel against the Starks. Do not forget we are still guests under their house, we still have some rights to protection even if Joffrey has lost it. And when you go to Lady Stark you remind her in as subtle a way as possible that your two husbands are the closest of friends.” Cersei had started to ease herself and it no longer seemed like at any moment she would call Ser Meryn to slash his way through the Stark guard. “You must look pained when you say this, any of that fire in your eyes will build a bigger rift instead of starting a bridge.” “Do you take me for a fool?” Aye, a pretty one and dangerous too.[/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]“No, I take you for Jamie’s sister.” Cersei seemed to like that. You’re my sister too, Tyrion had thought about saying, but that would more than likely ruin all the latest progress he had won with her. Then Cersei started to darken a bit and started asking about her other children. “Catelyn Stark is not our father. You have nothing to fear as far as Myrcella and Tommen are concerned. Besides, Myrcella is well liked by the ladies in Winterfell and Tommen is friendly with the boy Bran. None of them are even a quarter the monster Joffrey is.” Cersei snapped her gaze back towards Tyrion glaring before trying to appear innocent and injured. Tyrion lifted a hand. “Save it, I have known about my nephew’s nature ever since I heard about him and the cat.” Cersei snickered. “It was just a stupid little cat, Robert had beaten him so hard that he lost two of his baby teeth. I threatened that I would kill him in his sleep should he ever lay a finger on Joffrey again.” Of course you did, but did you ever think to ask yourself whether a boy who ripped the unborn kittens from a pregnant cat he butchered didn’t deserve to be punished? Instead you may have encouraged that behavior and brought this tragedy upon us. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]“None of that matters now, only that you make sure that Joffrey is thrice over as saddened and grieving as the girl is. Two of the wolf pups look as if they’re as good as dead.” Cersei had been too satisfied with that. Your smiles will ruin us Cersei, where is all that cunning you used to have? Joffrey’s chamber had opened and the boy prince was standing in the doorway with a bandage around his left forearm and his right shin. He had a murderous look on his face. “I want that Stark girl’s head!” No. “Traitors, they’re all traitors! They attacked their royal prince! Striking a member of the royal family means death! I want all their heads!” No. Cersei be damned this boy will ruin us all. We’ve lost the Rock, we’ve lost everything but the north. This boy will see us lose that too. Tyrion walked towards his nephew as he was starting to command the Hound and Ser Meryn to deliver him the head of one of the Starks, or maybe the Snow boy. “What are you doing? Get out of my face imp! Don’t think I’ve forgotten your treasons.” It was only when Tyrion was a few inches away from his nephew did he truly notice how drunk he was, but this was a different kind of drunkenness. He has been stewing and supping on the promise of blood these past few hours and his eyes were seeing red in every corner. Tyrion was disgusted. For a moment he wondered if this creature was worth the trouble of saving, worth the sting that hitting him would leave. This is my kin, Jamie’s son. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]A hard wet sound echoed down the hall. Tyrion had barely noticed the tingling sensation in his hand, but he could see Joffrey’s nose and lip starting to bleed. As the boy in front of him shrunk by several feet in height hunched over and covering his face, Tyrion looked behind him with a pained and disgusted look on his face. His sister was pale, and not from Tyrion hitting her son. “I will go to Lady Stark and I will do my best to save your son, but you will fix this. You will fix this or he will die.” Cersei had only looked down at Tyrion with vacant eyes, and for a moment Tyrion wondered if she had heard him. It took a moment to truly recognize what he was seeing though, for it was something he had never seen in his sister before. Those are not vacant eyes, they’re terrified. It is just that her face has been frozen with shock, in a minute or two she will break. Tyrion suddenly wanted to comfort his sister for the second time in less than an hour, but if he did his words might have been lost on her. “Fix this Cersei or else he will not live long enough to see The Wall.” With that Tyrion marched down the hallway giving an order to Ser Meryn and some of the Lannister Guards to follow him as he went to meet with Lady Catelyn.[/FONT]
[FONT="]For a time it appeared as though the rains had stopped, but that was only a brief respite that only seemed to be the herald of an even deeper rain. When it appeared as though the rain would last far longer than anticipated Robert had commanded that the main host of the army be left to follow at its own pace, Stannis could not wait much longer. With just five hundred mounted men on destriers Robert Baratheon, Eddard Stark, Benjen Stark, and Jamie Lannister had braved the rains to arrive just north of the Long Lake and meet with Lord Roose Bolton of the Dreadfort and Lord Greatjon Umber of the Last Hearth. In the pink tent of Roose Bolton, a quiet man with pale eyes, Robert Baratheon was there hearing out the reports that had come from the front lines while Jamie Lannister was about the camps. The Greatjon was drinking a flagon of an ale near the other side of the tent, keeping an unspoken distance between himself and the Lord of the Dreadfort. Eddard found that curious, especially since the Greatjon had been roaring and cursing whenever he felt the need to express his input. When Roose Bolton had gotten to the topic of Giants and Mammoths Robert had frowned in disbelief, but when the Greatjon lowered his drinking hand to mutter agreement with Lord Bolton Robert had looked to Lord Stark. “What do you think of this?”[/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]In truth Eddard did not know what to make of it either and was more than puzzled. He looked towards Benjen, his younger brother. Benjen always had a hint of laughter in his eyes, something uncommon amongst the Starks. Now the laughter has died away and his eyes were as cold as winter and his face grave. The Greatjon and the Dreadfort both concurred on this point as an indisputable fact and Eddard could not dismiss their words. Lord Bolton was a humorless man, hard and suspicious. Lord Umber was frank to a fault and although he was an embellisher of tales he was no liar. “Your grace, if the skies themselves have changed, the seasons twisted and altered, and the all that lay below the Neck disappeared believing in Mammoths and Giants would be amongst the least of our concerns.” Robert cursed and demanded a flagon of wine. “Seven Hells, where are the grumpkins and the snarks? The others take all of them and Stannis too. What is he thinking by bringing Giants down south with his host, how did he even find them in the first place?” The room had grown even quieter as Robert was showing his frustration. Ned saw the look of uncertainty in the room.[/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]“Your grace,” when Lord Roose Bolton spoke men quieted to hear him. His voice was unfailingly soft in both manner and volume, yet there was an air about him that commanded total respect and had made Eddard uneasy. There was something in his eyes that would unsettle anyone. “I believe it is obvious now to say that Stannis did not just arrive with his ships and take over the Wall. It would have taken weeks for him to do so and months to find, locate, and bring Giants beyond it. We would have had some word, some warning. There was nothing. It may be that there is some truth to what Stannis claims, though it may be that he has been lacking in facts. By all accounts of his envoys he has spent most of the ‘war’ he had been fighting on Dragonstone and isolated from the world, afterwards he chose to go to the wall and isolated himself further. I do not doubt that Stannis believes he knows the truth of things, but I wonder at his motivations and how they may have blinded him. Regardless the truer danger does not come from giants or mammoths, but in the other things Stannis has claimed to be true. For instance, the words you just spoke in jest may yet come to pass if this matter is not dealt with swiftly.”[/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]Eddard and Robert said nothing, both were sorting out feelings beneath the surface. Eddard Stark did not think he had half of the truth of the situation and Roose Bolton’s speech gave him the impression that there was something else being hidden. Eddard had heard tales that Roose Bolton had taken the position of Warden of the North after his son had supposedly died and Ned wondered how the Lord of the Dreadfort had earned that position. The Greatjon, however, did not believe in the Others. “I’ve seen a mammoth, I’ve seen a giant, I’ve seen a direwolf. Those are beasts of flesh and bone. I could make a fest out of a mammoth and kill a giant. I’ve scouted them, so has my boy. They are bigger than men, aye. Harrier too, mayhaps I might mistake one for my wife.” The Greatjon roared in laughter, and part of Eddard was thankful for it. “The Others are supposed to lead armies of the dead and ride ice spiders and dead things. The smallfolk near Last Hearth dig up the bones of giants and mammoths once a fortnight, I’ve yet to see even the vaguest hint of a White Walker.” Roose was less than convinced “I can assure you Lord Umber, I have questioned a few of the wildling deserters from beyond the wall… personally.” The word had been left to hang in the air for a moment before Roose continued “Many of them have seen what they refer to as ‘whites’ themselves. For that reason and that reason alone they bend the knee to Lord Stannis and his red God.”[/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]Benjen’s head seemed to snap to attention when he heard mention of wildlings bending the knee. “Who bent the knee to Stannis?” Benjen asked with a sense of gravity behind his words. Roose searched Benjen with his pale eyes before speaking “Some Magnar of Thenn and others that I cannot recall offhand.” Benjen stared in disbelief. “Styr was leagues away from the wall when I left and he’s a man who would die before he would bend the knee to anyone, him, the Weeper, Rattleshirt, and Tormund Giantsbane are amongst the most stout and unyielding of Mance Rayder’s underlings.” For a moment Roose’s eyes seemed to shimmer at that before he replied “Styr is dead, his son was the one to bend the knee.” “How did he die?” Roose was starting to get noticeably colder, as if his patience was wearing thin. It was a dangerous thing to question Roose Bolton with too much ferver, Eddard knew. “Donal Noye and Jon Snow killed him with an army of cripples and green boys at Castle Black.” This time it was Eddard who spoke, forgetting his own unspoken warning until after the words were on his lips “What do you mean about Jon Snow? I left the boy at Winterfell with my children. Any man who believes he is on the Wall need only ride south.” Roose’s face didn’t change its shape, yet somehow it appeared darker and the shadows that rippled along his ordinary features in the torchlight more exaggerated. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]“I do not think you meant to question the truthfulness of my speech my lord” a chill ran through the tent when Roose spoke those soft words, “I can assure you that the individuals I questioned had no lies left in them. The boy is riding south to meet us at the Last River and enough of my men have seen him to make that point unquestionably placed in fact.” The tent was quiet for a moment while Eddard tried to grasp the concept of Jon being at two places at once, it seemed impossible. Yet so much has happened that would have seemed impossible to any sane man a moon’s turn ago. His inner thoughts were interrupted by the Greatjon. “That is the truth it my own men have verified much the same tale. We will see for true it is on the morrow.” “The morrow?” Eddard looked confused, as did his brother and King Robert. “Lord Stannis has set up some tents just across the Last River a few days ago and every day he sends one of his pet ravens for news of your arrival to start the parlay.” For a moment the Lord of Winterfell thought that tomorrow may bring about the end of this business. No, Ned abruptly reminded himself. It will be the beginning.[/FONT]
[FONT="]When word reached Stannis Baratheon that his brother had arrived just north of the Long Lake he had summoned all of the commanders and leaders of his small army. Rattleshirt who styles himself the Lord of Bones was amongst the few wildling commanders Davos Seaworth had any notion of, and that was hardly a feat. Rattleshirt was a man of ill repute. When Mance Rayder, King Beyond the Wall, was given over to the flames instead of the kinder deaths Lord Commander Jon Snow had suggested there were those who had called for Rattleshirt to be burned alongside him. A new Magnar of Thenn was leading some of the Thenns, known to Davos only for their Bronze and Copper armor. Ser Axell Florent was also in attendance, though he had few and fewer followers in terms of men under Stannis. Ser Justin Massey and Ser Richard Horpe are also in attendance. Florent is a vile man, Davos knew that for a certainty. More than once had he clashed with that Queensman and more than once had he been threatened with near certain death. Massey and Horpe are good men and true, Davos could rely on them as much as he could rely on any men in the King’s service. They were not, however, Kingsmen. There were no great Kingsmen left though, so he could not possibly hold that against them. Except for me Davos thought solemnly.[/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]Davos did not think to count either himself or the Lady Melisandre amongst the men attending Stannis, however. Ser Davos Seaworth, Lord of Rainwood and Hand of the King, still felt himself a common man. King Stannis rose me up, gave me a name, and taught me the true meaning of Justice; my King’s Justice. Instinctively Davos reached to grasp at his luck, but this time he barely raised his hand a few inches before stopping himself. Instead he looked around to find Devan, but did not see him. Davos knew that even if he was not within Davos’s sight, his eldest surviving son would not be far from the King. Yet, as Davos searched he saw the king’s red shadow. The Lady Melisandre was dressed red in cloths that may as well suggest she was still on Dragon’s Stone. It may be a deal warmer in the North than it was when he had arrived, but it was still a miserable wet cold that seeped into the bones and threatened sickness and chills. It is as if she doesn’t even feel the cold Davos thought. As he looked at her Melisandre’s gaze matched his own and for a second Davos felt entranced in her red eyes before looking away. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]At least it was not raining, Davos thought. The rains had stopped sometime during the night, but the sky bore not a hint of its absence. The mix of different colors of steel and iron lay interwoven across the sky made it seem as though it was still raining. The wet chill hasn’t even left the air and there is not a hint of the sky that lay behind the clouds. Now was not the time to be staring at the sky though, now was the time to meet with King Robert. Davos could still remember that question asked a fortnight ago and he still could not come up with a suitable answer. Robert was the King before Stannis, but Stannis had become a King in his own rights as the true heir. None of the Queensmen even asked Stannis about that question, most like because it never even occurred to them. Lord Commander Jon Snow had already been ready to depart for the parlay with his squire Eddison Tollett, he was only staying behind as a courtesy. The wildling commanders had been slow to answer Stannis’s call, no doubt to their sorrow. Davos had guessed that the sun was up for nearly four hours when Stannis finally emerged ready to depart.[/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]“I am plagued with fools and flatterers Lord Davos” Stannis remarked to Davos has he mounted his horse. “None of them seem to think that this meeting could go wrong and that by my meeting Robert the war will be over and all that will be left is to defend the Wall. They do not know my brother and they do not know the Lannisters.” Stannis put extra weight into that last word. “If Robert takes my word as true then he will know the treasonous nature of Eddard’s son, he will know the treasons of his wife and the abominations he thinks of as his own kin, he will know of the treachery of the Boltons and half the other lords of the north, and he will know much and more that he will not like. It may well mean another war. Robert will not believe half of it. I have learned that lesson well when treating with other lords with only one of those truths. The water I give him will be pure, clean, and true. He will be suspicious of some hidden poison, and then it may be too late.” Davos did not have a word for his king, instead he merely listened as patiently and as respectfully as he could. Yet, part of him could see that Stannis is a deal stronger than he was at the Wall. His eyes were not so sunken, his shoulders seemed broader, and he sat his saddle just a little taller. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]“Whatever may happen, I suspect the key to solving this mess will be Eddard Stark’s natural son. Robert loved Ned Stark as a brother the way he never loved me. When I starved for him at Storm’s End and watched good men die as Redwyne and Tyrell soldiers feasted beyond my gates I received not a word of praise from him. Instead he praised Stark for showing up and relieving the siege, though he did not stay more than a moment as he left wih a few of his compansions for the south. Still I knew my duty and when my brother commanded me to build a fleet and take Dragonstone I did just that without complaint. It was the duty I owed him. Instead of thanks for defeating the last of the Targaryen holdouts I was cursed for not capturing the boy Viserys. I have told you all of this before, it is no less true now that my brother is back from the grave. If Jon Snow can convince Stark of the truth, then Stark will do the rest and I need only return to the Nightfort and wage the true war against the Others. The creatures of ice, creatures of cold, the true enemy to all that lives and breathes. I never asked for this duty Davos and if I lose my crown I lose my crown, I saw a crown consume me in the flames and I would do well to get rid of the thing. If I must keep it then I must keep it and do my duty. Yet we have yet even if all is well in all of westeros south of the Wall I still have my other duty, and the Melisandre has seen me waging the true war even now.” Davos listened and when a chill went through him he knew it had nothing to do with the left overs of the rain.[/FONT]
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The Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch had at most two dozen of his brothers around him, though not the ones Jon Snow would have chosen had he still been a boy. Pyp, Grenn, and the rest of his brothers remained at the Wall. Instead Jon Snow has Dolorous Edd serving as his squire and steward who had only just brought up a dream he had the night before last. “I dreamt of the King pale as snow with glowing blue eyes and Eddard Stark headless besides him, they were both chasing after me calling me Stannis. Don’t know how the headless man was calling out to me, mayhaps he had another mouth hidden away somewhere, eh?” Edd had continued the tale and ended with a jape and a smile, but Jon could not keep his mind off of the upcoming meeting. Iron Emmet rode beside him and started a conversation, but just like Dolorous Edd’s tale it faded into the background. Ghost kept up with the relatively slow pace of the march to parlay. Stannis rode up ahead by nearly a hundred paces surrounded by maybe twice Jon’s number and a giant walking besides. It suddenly struck Jon as odd that they were going with so many men, yet at the same time if something had gone awry Jon would have wanted much and more of his brothers with him. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]Along the Kingsroad heavy tall trees lined either side in a densely wooded forest. The cool gray sky seemed to lighten a little as they edged closer to the bridge across the Last River. Whether that was from the approach of noon or the clearing of the skies Jon could not be certain. All in all the journey would have taken roughly two hours at a moderate gallop, but it had already been three. The giant had moved faster than most of his kind would, but even with its strong long legs its pace was slow. The Night’s Watch’s pace was also slowed, but this was intentional. The Night’s Watch takes no part in the squabblings of lords Jon Snow had reminded himself. Stannis was the King who Cared and the man who now owned nearly a third of the wall, but the Lord Commander could not afford to appear subordinate or allied to Stannis. This is especially true now. Even if Jon had only held back his pace long enough for it to be noticed that there are two separate groups moving south for the parlay it will have been worth it if only for appearances’s sake. The Gods know the appearances already would give the appearance that he had sold the wall for a few soldiers. When the image of the river was seen from a distance, Jon ordered his brothers to halt and there he waited. It had only taken a few moments for Stannis’s followers to notice that Jon had halted his march and soon they stopped as well. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]Two of Stannis’s men hurried to Jon. One was Ser Justin Massey, who looked at Jon with a searching look. “His Grace the King has requested your presence at the front alongside him.” The Night’s Watch plays no part Jon would have said, wanted to say, and had said so many times before. He did not say it though and instead he gave a command to Iron Emmet and Dolorous Edd to remain behind with the rest of his brothers and he went with Justin Massey and his companion to Stannis with Ghost close behind. When Jon appeared before him the King’s manner was curt and annoyed “Why have you stopped?” This time Jon did say it and remarked on the impression the two of them marching side by side would bring. Stannis scowled, “Whether you like it or not Jon Snow you need to be the first thing Robert and Lord Stark see when we arrive at parlay. You and this giant creature are the proof I need to support the truth that I say to Robert. If your vows are troubling you so much I’ll be sure to tell you and everyone who will hear it about how much and often you have defied me even after I saved you from the false king Mance Rayder.” It left Jon unconvinced, but it would serve no purpose to argue the point here. Jon wanted to see his father again, he wanted to see his uncle again, he wanted to mess up Arya’s hair, he wanted to practice at swords with robb, climb with Bran, and even spend some time with Sansa. He wanted this with all his heart, yet Jon knew that this was as far as he could go. Once the state of the realm was decided upon Jon would return to the wall. That was his place now. If there was to be battle he would take no part in it. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]With a nod of approval the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch rode with Stannis and his companions for the bridge. Apart from Massey, Horpe, Seaworth, Florent, and the red woman were riding alongside Stannis and all of them had very different looks on their faces. None of them appeared to be worried though, and that was some small reassurance. When the bridge was in plain sight Jon could see just five figures standing on it. A tall fat man with an Antler Helm who Jon could guess was Robert Baratheon. Beside him was another tall man, this one in a white cloak and golden armor. The Kingslayer, no doubt. Two men of about a height and build, one wearing the blacks of a brother and the other wearing the grays of the Starks. Uncle, Father, for a moment there were tears in Jon Snow’s eyes. My father is alive! The thought had filled Jon was a sudden sense of elation only enhanced by his uncle beside his father’s distant figure. The last man was a standard bearer bearing the sigil of House Baratheon, a crowned stag black on a yellow field. It was then that Jon heard a thunderous roar from the bridge. “STANNIS! STANNIS!” Robert Baratheon called out his brother’s name with a voice that would make lesser men tremble. Stannis gave no answer but continued towards the bridge. Robert’s figure hoisted up a two handed warhammer into the air as he called to his brother. When Jon looked at Stannis he was shocked, the man he was riding with had half a smile on his face. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]Then, as quick as it appeared, the smile was gone and a scowl appeared on his visage. Robert stopped calling Stannis’s name when they had gotten close enough to see the other side of the river. Eight hundred mounted men bearing the banners of the Dreadfort, Karhold, and the Last Hearth lay behind Robert Baratheon. Winterfell’s banners were also amongst the crowd, though Jon was less than certain any of the men across the river were Winterfell’s. No one said a word until Stannis stopped his horse and dismounted right by the front of the bridge. The rest of his followers quickly dismounted as well and followed behind their king. Jon did not dismount instead he looked at his uncle and his father. Their faces were wrapped in suspicion, Jon could tell at a glance. There was some confusion there as well. Jon should have expected as much, yet the looks they exchanged felt like a wound opening in his chest. I have no father, no uncle, only brothers and not the brothers I was born with Jon Snow said to himself. The first words were spoken by Stannis who stayed about ten paces away from Robert, though Jon wondered if that had more to do with the Kingslayer beside him. “Robert.” Stannis’s tone betrayed no feeling, he spoke as if he were speaking to someone he had just spoken with while breaking their fast. “Traitor” Robert said in response, though there was something in his tone that made it seem as if there was a question hidden somewhere in the word. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]Stannis scowled. “I’m not a traitor.” Robert looked at his brother, his crown, his banners, and back at Stannis. “I see a traitor’s crown on your head and a traitor’s banner besides it.” Stannis’s scowl grew deeper “You were dead and I was your rightful heir, it’s a crown forced upon me by all the laws of men. If you thought I was a traitor you would have tried to strike me down with that warhammer of yours.” Robert looked at the warhammer in his hand and the burst into laughter. The sudden change in mood had taken Jon by surprise. “That’s true enough” and in a single motion Robert handed off the warhammer and searched Stannis. It took only an instant for Robert to darken again, though this time in a fit of genuine wroth “You’re not my rightful heir Stannis, my boy Joffrey is. Then Tommen. Then Myrcella. I have half a mind to put the lowest baseborn brat I can find with my features in the nearest brothel, legitimize it, and put him front of you.” Stannis was grinding his teeth at that remark, Jon could tell that even from a distance. “You might believe that, but the truth of it is that they are abominations of incest.” In an instant the Kingslayer raised his voice to a roar and called Stannis a liar. His hand on his hilt, daring Robert’s younger brother to speak another word of such filthy treasons. Stannis looked at Jamie as if he were looking at a dog that had barked too loudly. With a shout and a roar Robert quieted Jamie and urged Stannis to continue.[/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]“I had sought out the help of Jon Arryn to find proof of this treason and we sought out all the harlots that took your seed. We found plenty of babes, half a dozen of them we confirmed were yours beyond a doubt. They had your hair, your eyes, and bore a strong resemblance to you. Jon Arryn found a book which had mentioned all the matches and fruits of their unions amongst the noble houses of Westeros. The Lannisters had married Baratheons half a dozen times in the past, each time the golden hair was lost in the children. Black of hair, it said. Shortly thereafter he died. Poisoned most likely, by the Queen.” Robert’s face had turned a purple-red and it appeared as though he was ready to kill something or himself. He roared, bellowed, and cursed. He then pointed a finger at Stannis and spat venomously “Where’s your proof!?” “Lost with Eddard Stark’s head and at royal decree. All the babes we found were slaughtered. Only Edric Storm and perhaps that girl you sired in the vale survived, though Edric was taken away from me by my Onion Knight.” Jamie Lannister laughed and Robert’s fury was still on him, but less. “You have nothing Stannis. Your observations might have been right, but you couldn’t have been any more wrong with the interpretation. The children may look like me, that’s true, but did you think that might have something to do with me being a twin to Cersei? We are not Targaryens.” From Stannis’s party there were calls and jeers denouncing the Kingslayer. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]Stannis said not a word but looked at Jamie darkly. Jamie, not caring for the jeers, continued onwards. “You say that not a single one of the children she bore looked like Robert, but that’s not the case. There was a miscarriage early on and the babe had Robert’s hair and features. Of four children, three took heavily after the mother. I admit that might look somewhat suspicious, but only if you didn’t have eyes.” Jamie looked towards Eddard Stark “That is unless you are arguing that Lady Catelyn was sleeping with Edmure.” All at once there were shouting and glares at one another that could kill. For a second it looked as if Eddard Stark was about to challenge Jamie Lannister. There was pushing and shoving, but almost at the same time both Robert and Stannis Baratheon called for silence and in a moment silence fell upon the bridge. The Lady Melisandre spoke then. “King Stannis is not lying and he has all the proof that he needs. Behold he is Azor Ahai and wielder of light bringer. He is the sword that will slay the darkness and wage war against the creatures of the Great Other.” Jamie Lannister laughed at that, and Robert looked as he was about to laugh as well. “Seven Hells Stannis, where did you find this one?” He did laugh after that. Wordless, Stannis lifted his scabbard and sword above his head and drew his blade. For a moment Jon Snow thought that the skies had cleared.[/FONT]
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Bran looked at Winterfell from the top floor of the broken tower. Over a hundred years ago the tower struck by lightning and the roof collapsing in on itself and no one had bothered rebuilding it even though it was the tallest tower in all of Winterfell. From there Bran could see the whole of Winterfell and what seemed like all of the north. It was his favorite place and the best part of that was that no one ever came to the tower except to clean out the bottom floors, far away from Bran. The only company Bran kept was the crows, who constantly called out “Corn!” in their high pitched shrieks. Bran had given the crows corn the last time he had climbed, but that was a long time ago back before the King went north. Bran had wanted to climb up here before, but ever since the skies turned there were heavy rains keeping Bran inside and bored out of his wits. On the days when it wasn’t raining Bran had tried to climb but found that the rocks were slick with moisture and he couldn’t get a good hold on them. That had kept Bran away for a few days, but Bran couldn’t take it anymore and climbed right out of his bedroom window. As he went up Bran managed to find his proper footing, but on his way back down his bottom leg slipped and Bran fell from two stories up right into mud and muck. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]Since then Bran had not climbed. At least, until today. If truth be told Bran could not take it anymore. Ever since Joffrey had attacked his sister Arya the entire castle was on edge. There were suspicious glances everywhere and calls for blood. Bran had been with Tommen when Arya had been attacked, practicing with wooden swords and padded so much neither could move if they fell. He had been winning when Jon Snow shouted for Robb to come and that Arya was in danger. After hearing that Bran had tried to run to go to Arya but he fell flat on his face and was once again covered in the mix of rain water and earthen clay. By the time Bran had finally been able to go to Arya everything had already ended. Tommen was being carried off by one of the King’s followers and in an instant it seemed like the world had turned upside down. After a few days Tommen and Myrcella were allowed to go outside and Bran had been forced to be with Tommen for as long as he was not with his mother or imp, his uncle. That struck him as unfair, but when he tried to say so he only got angry dismissals from Robb stating that Arya was being forced to stay with Myrcella as they did needlework and that if Bran wanted to be rid of Tommen so badly he could stitch with the princess. Bran had wrinkled his face on that and said no. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]But Bran didn’t know just how long he would have to be with Tommen. It’s been almost five days and it seemed as though Bran was forced to spend every minute with Tommen. The prince might have been nearly as old as him, but where Bran was nearly a man grown the prince was such a child. The boy would do nearly anything asked of him but if left to his own devices he would he would draw in the mud with a stick and would sulk or follow him around when he grew bored with that. Bran had tried to teach him how to climb, but after he fell down from a tree a couple times he refused to go any higher. At least he wasn’t afraid of the direwolf pups anymore. After hearing about Joffrey being attacked he was terrified of them, but after Bran held the pup up to Tommen and allowed him to pet the direwolf Tommen soon fell in love with it. Sometimes it nearly drove Bran mad at how Tommen acted with Summer. He even gave the direwolf that name after hearing that the complete disappearance of the late summer snows meant the long summer might have come. Bran thought the name was stupid at first, but eventually it seemed as though the name couldn’t have been better. There were a lot of things about the boy prince that bothered Bran, but sometimes Bran almost thought him a friend. Never Joffrey though.[/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]Somewhere in the distance Bran heard a direwolf howl. Grey Wind, Bran thought immediately. Bran had been learning to tell the howls apart from one another. If you listened close enough you could tell the difference between their voices. Bran couldn’t do that with Dogs. Some dogs sounded differently than others, but once you heard enough of them they started to sound the same. Not with direwolves. Ever since Nymeria and Ghost were slashed by the prince the direwolves had started howling for them. It was not all at once, nor all the time, but whenever the winds changed or the moon was out they would howl and it would seem like their two siblings would get a little stronger. Lady was with Nymeria all the time now, constantly licking Nymeria’s furs and bandages. Lady had been inseparable from Sansa, but after Lady had bit Joffrey Sansa had abandoned her direwolf saying that it was dangerous. Bran thought that was stupid, Sansa loved her direwolf and she knew that direwolves are large apex predators that hunt in packs and tear down prey, that didn’t stop her before. Mother had forbidden Sansa from seeing Joffrey, but Bran didn’t know why. Robb, Jon, or even Bran himself would start a fight with Joffrey and beat him for hurting Arya, but it didn’t feel the same as the words Mother gave to the three of them. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]Robb thinks father will take Joffrey’s head, but when Bran asked his mother and Jory about it they said that was up to Eddard Stark or the king. Maester Luwin sent a raven to Last Hearth the very night it happened, but his father was in the field fighting Stannis and would not be back for a long time. When Bran thought about that he remembered the man from the Night’s Watch who was beheaded for desertion. That was the last time he rode out with his father and it was the day Bran got his pups. Ghost had been the runt of the litter, an albino with white fur and red eyes. Theon had said that pup would be the first to die before he went north with my father, but I don’t think even Theon would have imagined that Joffrey would play the part of a butcher. The thought of that made Bran angry so he threw a loose stone at the part of the castle where Joffrey is being held. With any luck Joffrey would get hit in the head with it and then he would be dying. Jon had thought the color of Ghost cemented that they were supposed to have them. The white and red of the weirwood trees. The weirwood trees had always scared Bran though. Trees ought not to have faces or leaves like hands, Bran had always said. The mere thought of it sent a shiver down his spine, but he had learned something else that day. Lord Eddard Stark, Master of Winterfell, was of the first men and followed the old ways. The man who passes judgment should be the man who wields the sword. [/FONT]
[FONT="]Arya had spent half the night holding and caring for Nymeria. The wolf pup that had rushed to defend her against the prince had suffered a long cut that had only recently stopped opening every time the wolf got to her feet. Maester Luwin fashioned a leg brace for the she-wolf’s left forearm which had been injured in the fighting. Arya hated Joffrey for that. When she dreamed she dreamed of pain and whimpering, as if she was Nymeria. Lady spent some nights with Nymeria, as did Summer and Grey Wind, licking her furs or howling. Others seemed to think that the direwolves howling was an ill omen, but it never bothered Arya. Their calls seemed to give Nymeria strength and Arya could feel that strength building within her too. Arya would have spent more time with Nymeria, but every day her mother would force her to leave her wolf and continue her lessons. Arya hated that too. Every time she left Nymeria bundled in her furs Arya felt as if she was abandoning her, even though Maester Luwin promised to take good care of her while she was out. Its not fair, Arya thought the second time it happened. Jon gets to spend his time with Ghost and no one bothers him! She had told as much to Maester Luwin and her mother, but Catelyn had only reminded her that she still had duties. Maester Luwin said something else though, something that had made Arya feel guilty and ashamed. “Child, Jon’s wolf may not last another day. It would be cruel and brutish to tear them apart from one another. Nymeria will recover though, it may take time but she will run alongside you again.”[/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]Arya did not want Ghost to die. Ghost may have been the runt of the litter once, but the albino direwolf had grown faster and stronger than his siblings. Arya liked the way Ghost would lick and tickle her whenever she reached down to pet him. She hated Joffrey for what he did not Nymeria, but she hated him for what he did to Ghost. Sometimes Arya would find herself dreaming about breaking Joffrey’s leg and cutting him with a sword. One time she had made the mistake of saying so out loud to Sansa when they were knitting within earshot of Septa Mordane. The Septa had said that while Joffrey had wronged her it was no place for any southern Lady to make such threats or have such dark thoughts. It would be up to her lord father whether or not Joffrey should be punished, and that punishment will be decided with the King for Joffrey was sired by him. Arya had said not another word that day, but she had seethed with anger all throughout the day until at one point she had taken a stick and beat it against the walls of a keep until there was nothing but splinters left and a broken hilt. One day she tried to practice with Mycah, but the Butcher’s Boy had refused to play with her anymore. The Butcher had forbidden it and threatened to beat him if he ever played with him again, that his father was afraid that had things turned out differently the butcher’s boy might have been killed. Arya didn’t believe it and was hurt when Mycah had said that, but she only shouted at him and ran away.[/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]That was not the worst of it though, Myrcella was forced on her as well. Myrcella was the last person in the world that Arya would have wanted to be with. She was the very image of the Southern Lady, the very image of Sansa’s dreams and songs. Arya would never forgive Myrcella for that. In a few days Arya had learned to hate those things about her, but found other things about Myrcella that she could tolerate. Still Arya couldn’t stand how much the Septa had praised Myrcella’s stitches even though they were only slightly better than her own. The Septa’s praise had faded recently, but even then the Septa never criticized her as much as she did with Arya herself. She was sick of all of it. Arya had ran more than once from Myrcella, rushing past Ser Meryn Trant and a few of the Tallhart men. A couple of times one almost grabbed her, but Arya was far too quick for them. The Septa had not been upset with her the first time, which had shocked Arya, but afterwards she was stern with her and that made it that much easier to run. All of the men had promised to protector, promised to defend her. Yet when Joffrey attacked her only Jon had rushed to defend her, only Nymeria and Ghost. Sansa did nothing. Half of Winterfell did nothing. In the end it had been the imp who saved her and put an end to it all. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]When she ran on this day Arya felt especially angry. For the first time in more than a month part of the sky had opened up and Arya could see blue. The sun, however, was still hidden and the blue was swallowed up after a few moments. Arya had missed the sun, missed the stars, and even missed the cold. The sun might not have been her own, it moved funny and its coloring was different in a way that Arya couldn’t describe with words, but it had shined all the same. Without it the world seemed gray and grayer, as if something was lost from the world. It had not mattered so much when she had friends and people to talk to, but now talking to them only made her angry. Almost every single one of them said that they wanted to avenge her and take action against the prince, but none of them would do anything because mother had forbidden it. All at once she wanted to scream, she wanted to cry, and she wanted revenge. She wanted… her father. Arya ran to the Godswood alone, as she often went, and cried there where no one could see. She cursed and yelled too, but always restrained herself so no one could hear. The last thing she needed today was to help the Tallhart men find her. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]“What’s wrong?” asked a sweet and soft voice from somewhere within the Godswood. Arya looked up wanting to see her father or Jon. She could always tell either of them about her fears, her pains. She trusted both of them implicitly. Instead when she looked up she saw plump little tommen dressed in Lannister colors. Arya had come here to be alone, to escape Joffrey’s stupid little sister. She was not happy to see Tommen there, and even angrier at herself for crying where he could see. Angrily she rubbed away her tears and was about to shout at him when a wolf pup started licking her hand. Startled Arya looked to find Summer by her side and to see that Tommen had gotten closer. Some of Arya’s anger disappeared then, but she still wanted to know what Tommen was doing here. “Shouldn’t you be with Bran or the Queen?” Tommen seemed to smile at that. “I am with Bran it’s just that he wanted to climb. I can’t climb, my hands are a bit too uncertain to grab ahold of all the branches and crevices I need to. I am scared of heights too, your brother is so brave.” Arya chuckled at that. Tommen was too plump to climb if truth be told. His stomach kept him from hugging the trees too closely and his hands were not firm enough to get a good grip. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]“See you’re doing better now. My uncle always says it’s good to laugh every now and then otherwise we might get too solemn and turn into a statue. A jape most like, but it never hurts to laugh.” Tommen smiled a stupid child-like smile that made it almost impossible for Arya not to smile with him, almost. “That still doesn’t tell me why you’re here all alone.” Tommen looked at the direwolf. “I’m not alone, I’m with Summer. Bran told me to look after him while he climbed the trees. I used to be scared of direwolves, but I like Summer. Bran said that we’d be safe here.” Ary looked for Bran and couldn't find him. Then she looked at Summer, rubbed behind his ears, and the direwolf licked her in return. “Don’t tell my mother that you saw me here” Tommen began “she would never let me go outside if she did. Mother thinks I’m off taking a lesson from the old Maester with some red cloaks protecting me.” Arya was thinking how Tommen had tricked the Queen. It struck her as odd that Tommen would be anywhere without a Lannister guard. Myrcella could never be seen without a pair of them and sometimes with Ser Meryn. When Tommen asked again a little more urgently Arya looked at him and smiled for the first time today. “I will, but only if you practice at swords with me.” Tommen returned the smile and nodded in a way that only a boy of seven could. [/FONT]
[FONT="]As silence fell upon the bridge and all the brightness of the sun shown upon the Robert and Stannis’s companions Lord Eddard Stark found himself closing his eyes and for half a heartbeat he believed that he was back in the south during Robert’s rebellion far from the cold of the north. The silence didn’t last long. After a few moments some of the men behind on the other side of the bridge were saying “seven save us” while many more were cursing. It was at that moment when the sword that shined like the sun was sheathed and it seemed as if all the light had faded from the earth. The world was gray once more. “The Lady Melisandre seems to be right in this regard Robert. I never asked for this duty and I never wanted it. It took my very army being shattered and my greatest chance to save the realm ending in flames and betrayal in order for me to realize it. I am Azor Ahai and from that I have another duty. If you want my crown take it. It was mine by rights when I received it, but it seems as though here in the south that you have a crown of your own that you won in the rebellion. My men would have me be King of Westeros until the end of my days, but I have seen this crown consume me and lead to my death. You have dishonored me more times than I have any right to remember. On my wedding night you took my wife’s kinsmen in my own wedding bed. You took Storm’s End from me. You refused to honor me as you Hand. You have turned against me more than once for things that were beyond my control and have constantly reminded me of it at every turn. But you are my brother Robert. I may have no love for you, but I owe you a duty. I may not love, but I love the mother who bore us and the father who sired us and I will follow you until the crown is mine again.”[/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]There was a long pause as King Stannis spoke. His jaw was clenched in the beginning, but as he spoke Ned Stark thought he felt more weariness from him than anything else. Lord Stannis is a man who was a slave to duty, this was something he knew all too well. If Stannis wanted to rebel he could have done so before many times, yet he only grit his teeth and followed the commands Robert gave him. Take the slights meant to shame him. Even to this day Ned did not know why Robert had done those things. Ned looked at his friend, his king, and saw something in his eyes that wasn’t often there. There was some shame there. Robert had planned on capturing Stannis with the mounted men behind him after hearing his brother’s excuses for rebelling after deciding on a time to end the parlay’s truce. A victory without bloodshed had been something that he had hoped for, but Robert had been certain that it would come to blood. The Kingslayer made certain of that as well. The oathbreaker was not shamed by Stannis’s speech, nor was he even that interested in it. There was a perplexing look on his face, most likely musing about the sword. It had given him pause, Ned thought. “Stannis, you say the crown is mine if I want it. Prove it or to the seven hells with you.” Stannis looked at Robert with a mounting scowl, but after a moment he raised his to his head and lifted the crown. Behind him all of his followers took the knee and begged him to keep it. The red woman and ser Axell Florent were particularly dismayed. “You are the one true king!” Melisandre declared with ser Axell eagerly agreeing with her. Stannis’s frown grew deeper.[/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]“Be quiet, all of you. This is my duty, you will do your duty and obey. I am no king, not any more.” His followers had grown deaf to him, only ser Massey and the Onion Knight had kept their peace and frowned in silence. Stannis threw the crown at Robert and reminded all of the men on that bridge of something they had half-forgotten when the sun had appeared on that bridge. “Here’s my crown Robert, I am a king no more and will return to the Nightfort. There are creatures in the dark, monsters and worse things. I mean to make that my seat for me and my daughter after. Your abominations will have no claim to it and if you die without a trueborn son I’ll return to reclaim that crown and take yours.” Any sense of shame Robert might have had disappeared in an instant. In its place wroth rose in him like a caged beast and he roared at Stannis. After shouting a few curses at his younger brother something coherent emerged from Robert’s mouth “You will stop these treasons Stannis, the children are of my own blood. I have heard your ‘proof’ and call it false! You might believe such nonsense, but it is cruel and self-serving.” It was a wonder Stannis had any teeth left. His face had darkened and his jaw was clenched. Even from where Eddard was standing could the sound of his teeth grinding against one another be heard. “I know them to be abominations and you will see their nature soon enough. The boy Tommen is kindly and Myrcella is not without some charm, I would not suffer them under my roof but they can crawl under whatever rock they choose to so long as they stay away from my crown. Joffrey is a monster though, a beater, fond of rape, and a cold murderer. There will be a thousand cats before his reign would end unless I ended it for him.”[/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]Robert’s face purpled, Jamie’s face reddened, and jeers were coming from either side demanding action. Stannis’s head, Stannis’s tongue, the Kingslayer’s head, Joffrey’s head. The mob of companions, many of them high born, had a bloodlust on them. Jamie had drawn his blade and shouted “Treason! He means to kill the Prince!” This parlay had gone horribly wrong, and Ned shouted to be heard and demanded quiet. None came. Robert’s bellow, a fierce thing that could have been heard ten leagues away, finally silenced everything. Still purple Robert looked at his brother with murder in his eyes “Go!” he spat “Go back the wall and freeze in that hellish wasteland. If you ever come back I’ll kill you. Go before I forget we’re kin.” His voice was surprisingly quiet and Stannis shockingly compliant. Even as his men still called for action, Stannis merely turned after giving a curt nod and he walked back to his destier. When Axell Florent called him king Stannis soured notably and gave Florent a gaze that made him cower long before he spoke. “I am not a King anymore Axell, do not make me say it thrice. Go back to Selyse and tell her that she is a Lady once more. I will have no more of this mummer’s farce.” A few shouts were given to the giant that came with them and they slowly departed with heated words and chilled intents. Eddard still could not believe that there were giants, the creature had not even seemed real when it first appeared. In a few moments all but one rider had left. “Lord Stark may I have a word with you?” a young man called out mounted atop a horse dressed in black. Jon. Stark stared suspiciously, but inside he was confused and torn apart. If half of what he had heard was true then Jon had sold half the wall and turned his cloak. “Uncle I’ll need a word with you as well. Afterwards I must speak to the King. There are things you must know.”[/FONT]
[FONT="]There were some things that must be done before Jon could hope to leave for the Wall. Clarifications that must be made, recounting a past unmade, and facts that must be told for all the realm to hear. Jon’s father and uncle are people he must make to understand the truth of what has happened and turn them into allies and friends of the Watch. There was no telling how much longer this respite from winter would last. The Night’s Watch needs its first ranger back, it needs a lord in Winterfell, and it will need all the men that the southern kingdoms can provide. Most importantly, Jon must make them see that the wildlings are to be allies against the Others or an army in their service if they are left to die. When Robert left with the greatest share of the host that followed his side to parlay still infuriated over Stannis’s remarks there was nothing Jon could do to stop them. There will be a time for Robert Jon assured himself, but not today. Instead as they left Jon’s brothers had made their way to his position. Dolorous Edd and Iron Emmett drew an immediate look of recognition from Benjen Stark and for a moment Jon thought it might be best to have Benjen speak with his brothers before he speaks with the new Lord Commander. Jon searched to look for the brothers Benjen should have brought with him, but it seems that Benjen left them further behind or sent them ahead. “You asked for a word?”[/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]Eddard Stark broke the silence. Jon could not tell anything from his tone, it had been too long since he had seen his lord father and he had never heard this kind of tone from him, at least not towards Jon. “I did. First I would like to ask what you know about the troubles we have been through. This might be awkward for you father and I am more than well aware of the tales told about me, but this is something that must be clarified before I return to the well so tell it all and tell it true.” The voice Lord Stark spoke in response was something Jon was familiar with. It was the lord’s voice he used both in judgment of others and in treating with other lords. Jon looked into his father’s cool grey eyes and Jon suddenly had a thought occur to him. Is he judging me as he does the men he beheads or does he treat me as he would the likes of Tywin Lannister or Mace Tyrell? No, I’d rather not know. When his father had started to pause in order to remember smaller details that did not come to mind Jon thought that he had heard most of what Stark knew. Half-truths at best, most of them could leave me hanged and my uncle will be the one to tie the knots. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]“If there is more you may bring it up after hearing the whole truths. Benjen” Jon turned to look at Lord Stark’s black and silent shadow “A few days after I arrived at the Wall you went out ranging and disappeared. Some days later two of your companions were found near the grove of weirwood trees where I swore my vows and became Mormont’s personal steward. They were dead, but had not rotted and did not smell. The old bear brought them back to the castle, but in the night they had risen with eyes turned a pale blue and they felt no pain from steel. Fire killed them, after they nearly killed me. I would be dead if not for Ghost. For some reason the Lord Commander bestowed upon me a great honor: Long Claw.” Jon reached for the sword at his hilt and unsheathed it in a slow and nonthreatening manner and handed it over to Benjen to examine. “You are likely dead. Whether you were burned or risen as a servant of an Other I cannot say. If you do not believe me your sworn brothers will testify to its truth, at least the ones who were there.” Benjen and his father had only sharp suspicions when Jon mentioned his disappearance and later resurrection, to the point where they believed that he had become a liar and a mummer. It was the Valyrian steel sword that was the ancestral treasure of House Mormont that would support his story, but only so far. Perhaps they think I might have looted it from Mormont’s corpse after I joined the Wildlings. No, Jon couldn’t think of that. Whatever they might have been told this was his Uncle and his Lord Father. They knew him better than that.[/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]“How did the Lord Commander die?” His father asked, not unkindly but still lacking much in the way of warmth. “That I do not know. I was not with the Lord Commander, by then I was traveling with Styr to climb over the Wall.” Jon paused a moment to let that sentence sink in, looks of confusion and then anger flashed and faded before he continued. “But from what I heard and what Edd will attest to is that he was slain by his own brothers on his way back to the Wall after his host was shattered and routed by Whites and Others. Craster was slain and our brothers turned to raping his daughter-wives. Likely Craster’s line is reduced to but two. A granddaughter or great granddaughter and their son who currently reside at the Wall. So far none of those that slew the old bear had returned to the wall, likely knowing their lives are forfeit.” “Seven Hells” Eddard cursed, sounding more like the father Jon knew. Benjen, however, started to flush with anger. Still holding Long Claw he went off to talk with his brothers. That can’t be helped. Let him talk and let him see, perhaps his brothers will be more convincing than the boy he knew.[/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]“You have heard I am an oath breaker I trust” Jon spoke, more softly this time with shame starting to fill him. Shame, guilt, and remorse; those are the emotions that flew through Jon unbidden. Eddard seemed only now to recognize that Jon was still his son, though there was pain in those grey eyes even if his face was still as frozen as carved from ice and stone. “Yes” a pause “is it true?” Jon looked at his father and could almost feel a rush of tears, almost. Kill the boy Jon, kill the boy and let the man be born! Jon remembered Maester Aemon’s words. “Yes, but in ways that you might not understand. While I was out with the Lord Commander the second in command of the Shadow Tower, Qhorin Halfhand requested me to serve alongside him as a scout. It might have been my Stark blood, it might have been Ghost, whatever the reason I went with him and would have died with him. That was before we learned of giants, mammoths, wargs, and a hundred thousand strong host heading south to go through the Wall. After that Qhorin said I must return to the Wall, that I must tell them what I have learned, and that I had to go over to them and that I must not balk of whatever is asked of me. I asked him to tell the Lord Commander that I was no turncloak before I realized that Qhorin was going to die, but Qhorin promised me that he would.”[/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]Jon’s voice was low and pained, Jon had not thought it would be this difficult. It had not been when he had spoken of this to the armorer or the maester. They were not your father, and you had only spoken in response a voice from within told him. “There was a wildling woman that I had spared a fortnight before that day though. I had not thought that I would have to kill a woman, so I asked if she would yield when I had her at the point of my sword. She yielded, but I could not kill her when it was asked of me. I had remembered your words and I could feel that there was no evil in her, no desire to do me any harm, and she was stripped of her weapons and her comrades. It would not have been honorable to kill her, and after hearing her words I could not swing my sword. When me and the halfhand were cornered the woman was there on the other side facing me, and she vouched for me to go over to the other side. Before I even could respond the halfhand had called me a traitor and pointed steel at me. It was my chance to go over to them and I did not balk. Only…” another pause, and by now he could tell that there were others listening. “Only when I was about to move over Rattleshirt called me a crow and demanded that I prove my worth and my loyalty. I did not want to, but before I even knew it I was fighting with the halfhand. Qhorin was ten times the man I was and he could have slew me easily, but he did not and left openings. I did not balk.” By then Benjen had been drawn by Jon’s continued speech and he paled at hearing that remark. “That’s enough Jon, you don’t need to say more.” Lord Stark had dropped all pretense of being a Lord. He was his father again. “No, that is not even a tenth of what I must tell you.”[/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]Benjen searched his nephew and Jon felt as guilty as if he had pillaged the Lord Commander’s corpse. “After I turned over to the wildlings I met with Mance Rayder and from there I learned that there was a threat that far surpassed anything a wildling could possibly pose. You have seen the Giant my lord, you will see a mammoth, and wargs are realer than you think. The sixskins seemed to believe that I am a warg, and if I am a warg then all your children are wargs as well.” Jon wondered how his father would take that and quickly added “I do not feel as though I am a warg. I’ve never changed my skin, I’ve only had a dream. Ghost is loyal to me, protective of me, in ways I cannot understand. Just as the direwolves are loyal to your children. They will fight and die for any of your six” if there is another me there “Do not kill them or separate them. You killed Lady on the road south and I heard that Theon Turncloak either butchered or imprisoned Bran and Rickon’s wolves before they were murdered.” Were they? Did I dream of Bran’s wolf? Benjen and his father eyed Ghost suspiciously, for some reason they were not surprised to hear of Theon Turncloak. They’ve heard the tales, but they might not believe them. Yet there was an anger building in his father and Jon realized that Theon might be in Winterfell or he might have traveled north. What would he have to say about all this? As much as Roose Bolton or Ramsay Snow. “I think I’ve heard enough for today Jon” Lord Stark responded, “You have said a lot that I must think on.” Jon looked as his father. “Not nearly enough I’m afraid. You should know that Mance Rayder was south of the Wall and is most likely making his way beyond the wall as we speak. Perhaps me and my men should return with you to your camp. There is much and more to tell you and time is growing short.”[/FONT]
[FONT="]For the second time this fortnight Tyrion saw dawn before he slept. The old tome “A History of the Great Trials in the Riverlands” by some Maester that even Tyrion could not be bothered to remember was the fourth that Tyrion had been looking through. Ever since cold rainy day with Joffrey, Tyrion had not had a single moments rest when it came to working on a way to save his nephew from the mob that surrounds him. Admittedly there were ways open to saving Joffrey already, but none were good. The most blatant example would be to force a trial by combat if this went anywhere near a trial that could end his life. Jamie could kill any man that Ned Stark had in his employ, of that Tyrion had no doubts. Yet the real art will be keeping this from ever going to trial. Even if the Gods exonerate the boy it may well provide the last break in order to sever ties between the Starks and the royal family. That might as well be a death sentence. As honorable as Ned Stark may be he would not bend his knee to the man who tried to kill his daughter if there wasn’t an actual realm. The best way this would end would be with Robert returning with Stannis’s head on a spike and telling all that these vie ‘lies’ were proven false. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]With his eyes straining Tyrion closed the book in front of him. House Arryn dealt with men who assaulted their family by throwing them off the mountain or leaving them to rot until they decide to jump. If a hand was laid upon a Targaryen, that man would be lucky to only lose the hand. The Starks resorted to trials by combat most of the time, with a Stark claiming the head of the assailant or there being a blood feud for a few generations. There was a Bolton that tried to force himself upon a Stark and take her for a bride, that ended predictably in blood stopped only by a horrific winter and the death of most of that Bolton’s line. Would the Leechlord be so blind as to allow his son to do the same with Lady Hornwood? Tyrion knew history often repeated itself, but it was a good thing that most of the tales coming back from the north are too ridiculous to believe. That way the more fantastic truths will become as unbelievable as the fairy tales of Whites, Gaints, Skinchangers, Theon’s sack of Winterfell, Walder Frey violating every law of gods and men setting the entire world against him, and Ramsay Snow. Somehow when Tyrion listed them he felt a chill and wondered if the later three could actually happen. That Tyrion listed them alike in madness made Tyrion remember something that his wet nurse said. Grumpkins and Snarks, utter nonsense. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]The Riverlands tome was even less helpful than the others. The Ironborn had their version of justice in the land, as did the Storm Kings for a time. The Blackwoods and the Brackens solved their problems in a pattern of brutal rivalry and compassionate reconciliations. One century a Bracken would be let off easily and simply be forbidden from ever going across the river, the next the Bracken and most of his associates would be hanged on that dead weirwood tree and have ravens eat their eyes and strip the flesh from their bones. A Bracken then poisoned the tree as revenge leaving it dead, but the ghostly tree still stood and dozens of Brackens. The Blackwoods had an exceptionally clever name for their keep where they ekpt the weirwood… what was it? A pause Raventree! How clever the first men are. Last Hearth, Last River, Long Lake, Bear Island, Bay of Seals, all exceptionally clever names. Wouldn’t surprise me if they named Giants Giants. Tyrion’s chuckle woke the Septon who was sleeping with his neck craned backward against the chair. Tyrion thought that he would be uncomfortable when he awoke and he did. With the Septon rubbing his neck anxiously Tyrion pushed the tome to him and thanked him for allowing him to read it. Not that it wasn’t the duty owed to him as the Queen’s sister, but a little courtesy never hurt.[/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]When Tyrion finally emerged into the daylight there was sun in the sky and the clouds had mostly dissipated. The ground was still muddy and wet, but it was a small favor for the day that Tyrion did not overlook. Tyrion had long since switched over to the cheap, but surprisingly comfortable and warm leather boots that the northmen wore after the first fortnight had ruined his fine footwear. Tyrion was making his way over to the Red Wing of the Castle, also known as the Queen’s Wing, the Lion’s Den, and the Prince’s Prison. Tyrion thought again about the clever names that were given to it and was about to make another internal jape at the first men when he remembered that all but one of them were created by the Queen’s own guards from the south. I suppose there’s no reason to believe that the Andals are any more clever. The Lannister Guards stood side by side with Northmen. In a sense tensions had been eased these past few days, but Tyrion would have to be a fool to think that the problem was forgotten. “Where are my nephews and niece?” Tyrion asked, trying his best to sound as if he had more than twelve hours sleep across five days. He always asked that question when he was out for the night. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]“Princess Myrcella is inside my lord, Prince Tommen is with Lord Brandon, and Prince Joffrey remains within.” As good an answer as Tyrion could have hoped. It was unlikely that Myrcella would ever get the Stark girl to like her, but the closer Tommen got with Brandon the safer they’ll both be. “I take it the prince is playing in the Godswood again?” The guard seemed to think for a moment and said “I cannot speak to any certainty, but that would be my guess. Wherever ser Meryn is you will find the Prince.” Tyrion considered that a moment and turned to ask one of the other guards to go check on his nephew and to make certain that his greatest care in the world will be how much fun he will have and his greatest fear about being forced to learn sums or history from Maester Luwin. Tyrion had come to admire the old Maester, not in the least for his learning of the higher arts and that valyrian steel forge in his chain. Tyrion knew more about Dragons than him, but he found himself learning more often than not whenever the conversation drifted from Dragons to other studies. “I take it my sister is within?” “Aye my lord, she was breaking her fast with Prince Joffrey a short time ago.” With a nod Tyrion walked past the guards and entered into the Lion’s Den. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]As Tyrion waddled down the hallway he was relieved to be out of the mud, but there was something about a hard stone floor that made each step feel a little more real and his legs began to cramp from the quick transition and from sitting in an uncushioned chair for more than half the night. When a serving woman Tyrion recognized from the Kitchen’s walked by he called to her to make some bacon burnt black and some bread and butter. With a “yes m’lord” she was off. The hall that his sister converted into a dining hall was reasonably large enough to fit half the people guarding them and more than enough to fit their guards and themselves. Myrcella was not present, but his sister and Joffrey were. Before Tyrion had even sat down his sister was upon him with questions. “What have you found?” Tyrion lifted his cramped leg over the bench and massaged his thighs. “I’ve learned that if you are going to stay up all night in a chair you better bring a pillow.” Cersei frowned, not unprettily though there was nothing pretty about the unhappiness in her green eyes. “There’s some precedent that will allow Joffrey to walk away from this without him taking the black or having trials. He must leave and never return to Winterfell.” Cersei wasn’t appeased. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]“You told us this yesterday and the day before, certainly there must be more.” Oh my sweet sister there is much and more, but of the things we might like… “Little and less Cersei, your son put us in a dangerous position. If we had the Rock or even King’s Landing matters would be different but we have to appease and appease. If you have to get on your knees and beg for your son’s life that is what you must do. Until we hear more from the front I must learn all I can about these trials. The one real hope that we have is that Joffrey is a prince and heir to the Iron Throne, if he was a Bolton, an Umber, or a Ryswell his head would be mounted on a spike. Being banished from Winterfell is not as bad as it seems. He need only confess, show genuine remorse, and swear a vow upon a heart tree or a in a sept.” Tyrion had sounded convincing and Cersei grew less bitter, but Tyrion wondered if Joffrey could ever show genuine remorse. Sometimes a mummers tears can pass for genuine. Tyrion looked at his nephew. The arrogant boy who threatened to lop off his head now seemed sullen. Two dark purple welts were about his face and many more where Tyrion could not see. I suppose I did ask for this when I told her he would die unless she fixed him, but can you beat evil out of a monster? Without caring to know the answer Tyrion waited half asleep for his bacon. [/FONT]
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It had been two days since the King and Lord Stark returned from the Last River and since then it appeared as though more than half of the strength gathering just below the river had been sent away. With them a great many of the camp followers left, but a smaller portion leaving even more women open to Theon. Theon Greyjoy was not a man accustomed to taking other men’s leavings, but the damp cold gray that predominated the daylight hours was enough to encourage him to take his pleasures wherever he could find it. Apart from the increasingly familiar faces of those that warmed the tents of many a Umber or Dreadfort men, it seemed as though much of the gambling and games have disappeared as well. That was less surprisingly to Theon, however. There had been a limited amount of coin spread around the camp and most of them had been utter fools at dice and other games, leaving the better part of the wealth of the camp in the hands of a few smart betters and a great many more cheaters just good enough not to get caught. Theon had made some silver on the bets, leaving much of the copper pieces for others to fight over. He was a Greyjoy, the son and heir to Pyke. It was, put simply, beneath his station to fight over coppers. That didn’t stop Theon from watching others fight over it, however. Some of the highlights of his days had been watching half-drunk men at arms curse and cheat one another over handful of copper pieces. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]If it was just the increasing lack of entertainment that plagued Theon then things would be different, but instead he had been cursed with the black crows that came over to their camp. They shunned the Dreadfort men and muttered curses about them often enough to make Theon think that there was some bitter blood between them, but Theon could not for the life of him remember any battles or notable skirmishes between the Night’s Watch and the Dreadfort. The Dreadfort was near as far away as Winterfell, which made it seem impossible. When tales started spreading to Theon by way of the Umber men Theon almost laughed at the next black brother. It was as if each and every one of them believed in all the stories Old Nan had to say about the Dreadfort. Theon knew he was no fool, the Boltons may have kept some of the older ways of the north and there were always whispers about Ramsay Snow, but this was different. Utter madness, they’d have to be mad to believe that nonsense. That alone was worth a good jape or two and that brightened his day up until he tried to confront Jon Snow. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]Theon could scarcely believe his eyes the first time that he saw Jon in the faded blacks of the Night’s Watch. For the first few moments he saw him he had believed that Jon had raced up to the wall, swore an oath, and raced back down. That in itself was complete madness as Theon and the Stark men had all but killed their horses on the way here in the mud, rain, and gray. When he went up to get a closer look he realized that Jon Snow was older, taller, and colder. Jon Snow had always been a sullen boy, jealous of Theon and quick to sense a slight, but this had been much worse. It was if what little warmth the boy had in his dark grey eyes had been ripped out of him. The glares were worse though Theon mused, that should have been my first clue. It was only after Theon had been hearing tales that he was a turncloak, a kinslayer, and a murderer of children that Theon’s fury welled up inside him to the point of bursting. He nearly killed the first man he heard muttering “Theon Turncloak” behind his back after that and decided he must have an end to it then and there. Red faced he entered Jon’s tent and found him with his lackwit squire and a much larger man with the wits of a fish. Jon was cold and contemptuous, his eyes seeming to daggers hacking away at his neck. Theon could not hold it in anymore “I am no Turncloak! I am not a Kinslayer! I would never lay a finger on Bran or Rickon!” The words came out twisted with anger. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]Jon had seemed to stare into his soul when he looked at him and the icy glare that he gave Theon had been intimidating, more than he would ever admit. “No, I suppose not. The Theon that butchered my brothers, betrayed Robb and the North, and led a host of Iron men upon the Winterfell that slaughtered everyone to a man and burned it as you fled died some time ago. You were flayed for it. I heard that you begged for death and died screaming.” Theon reached for a dagger and spat venomously that he would have that liar’s tongue out. Theon never saw the big man. Before he knew it he was lifted from his feet and slammed into the muddy earth. His blade was wrenched from his side, only half drawn, and put up to his chin. For a moment Theon thought he was going to die and began to struggle furiously to get free and kill the man that pinned him. Instead he heard Jon Snow speak with much less disgust “Emmett enough, it will not due to kill my father’s ward. Even creatures like him can be used on the Wall. Cotter Pyke might take a liking to him.” Theon was hurling curses and abuse at Jon Snow, half goading him. Instead what he received was worse. There was a look of utter disgust in Jon Snow’s eyes as Theon was screaming and making threats. Theon didn’t notice when Jon’s face changed, but in an instant Theon stopped as he looked into Jon’s eyes again. This time there was sadness. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]“Why did you kill my brothers Theon? They were only boys. I didn’t believe it at first. I didn’t believe you were a monster such as that. The whole of the realm could not be lying though, and when you were styling yourself the Prince of Winterfell for all the world to see I realized that the Theon I had thought I knew was a lie.” There was something in Jon Snow’s voice that made Theon turn and Theon could never have been half so ashamed and horrified. He believes that the tale is true. The realization had hit Theon hard and low when Theon was taken from the tent and escorted to Eddard Stark’s tent. He had been a ghostly pale white when he met with the man who took him as a ward ten years ago. After criticisms rebukes and punishments washed over him Theon could only mutter a weak reply to the point where one of the people in the tent with the two of them asked if he had been stabbed or hurt in some way. Theon could only look up and see that Stark’s eyes were also cold and critical. For a moment it was as though Theon would weep, but he was Ironborn and Iron Men do not weep. Instead he only asked a question, one that must have seemed imbued with a sense of desperation. “Is it true?” Stark did not answer him and Theon almost broke down again “I would not kill them. I would not kill them!” Yet even as the words went through his lips a small voice deep within Theon began speaking. Not unless I had no choice.[/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]The next day Theon spent nearly its entirety in a daze and beaten though no lasting physical harm had come to him. His outburst the night before had spread quickly throughout the camp, though there was probably not a one that had not heard him shouting. The familiar faces of women spurned his advances, coupling with lesser men. The gambling pits and dens seemed closed to Theon with suspicious glares and angry rejections hurled in his direction when he approached. Umber men who Theon found to be great drinking partners as they regaled him with stories of fights and beddings wanted nothing to do with him. Only the Bolton men and some Karstark men had paid him any mind and that had made it worse. It made the lie feel truer. The Japes that had once seemed so funny turned to ashes in his mouth. Like Winterfell the thought came bitter and unwanted into Theon’s head, but it stayed there all the same. It was twisting inside of him to the point where Theon was planning on leaving the camp and asking leave from Stark to return south when half dozen riders came up from the east. Now what? Theon had been one of the first to meet the riders. “Has Stannis attacked?” One of the soldiers nearest to him had asked. “No” The answer was curt and rough “We must have word with the King and Lord Stark, there has been a raven from Winterfell.” The words left ash in Theon's mouth for a second time as he could almost see Bran and Rickon's heads mounted on the castle gates.[/FONT]
[FONT="]Maester Aemon was staring outward towards the skies with his pale blind eyes as Samwell Tarly was attending the ravens. The Maester often did that since the two of them have returned from East Watch. The old man was blind and physically feeble, but his wits were as sharp as any man. The realization that he no longer knew the night sky had made the Maester feel helpless when it came to charting the skies. Decades ago, long before Samwell was even born, the old Maester had used Myrish lenses to map out the stars and measure the great arc of the sun and moon. Since the skies changed it became of paramount importance for the Night’s Watch to know the sky as best as it could ever hope to know. When snow drifts bury man, beast, and road the only true guiding post for rangers were the mountains, the rivers, and the night sky. Samwell was not fool enough to think that the average ranger would carry out charts or even be able to puzzle their way through them if they got turned around in the snows, but if there was a star or a picture in the stars that was easy enough to recognize and it had a direction attached to it then not all hope would be lost. Clydas was of some help when it came to making the charts, but his eyes were not as good as they could have been. Clydas himself was an old man, Samwell knew, he only appeared younger by contrast with Maester Aemon who has lived passed 100 name days. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]When the Ravens were attended to, the letters sorted by order of which to bring to the Lord Commander, and with dawn dispelling the last vestiges the night sky Samwell had finished more than half of the work he needed to accomplish in the small hours of the morning. “Is there anything else I can do for you Maester Aemon?” The old Maester used to frighten Sam, but after getting used to him he realized that he was a good and kindly man though he would deny it when the word was used to compliment him. The Maester’s voice was weak but had an underlying strength to it “Perhaps something to break my fast Sam, after that you may go to Bowen Marsh and Othell Yarwyck and inform them of the latest news from the south.” Sam returned with some eggs, drink, and hard bread. The Maester gave a nod when the food was put in front of him, though he did not see. Instead he began speaking almost absentmindedly “The Sun will show itself today, though I do not know for how long. I feel its warmth building and the moistness receding.” Sam did not know what to say to that, so instead he said “That is good to hear Maester, the men were growing restless about the constant rains and the wet that lingered on.” Something flashed in the Maester’s face “is it?” This time Sam kept his silence, the old man was wise perhaps even beyond his years if such a thing was possible. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]“It has been decades since I have ever felt such warmth this far north sustained over a month. That this had happened at the precipice of winter is without precedent. Even if we assume the weather has returned to what it was when King Robert travelled north it is still too warm. There should be summer snows; instead we had near unending rains drifting from downpour and spittle.” A long pause held in the air “the cold preserves us here Sam.” Sam said nothing in response to those words for he had nothing to say. The Maester did not pry a response from him and after a few moments of further silence Sam departed. He made parting words with Clydas as he left the Maester’s dwelling. Outside Castle Black had still lingered in darkness by the long shadow of the Wall, but off in the distance Sam could see that the clouds had parted and the sun was rising. Sam looked to find Grenn or Pyp somewhere in the yards, but it seemed as though they were nowhere to be found. He had not seen them when he went to the Dining Hall, but perhaps he had just not seen them there. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]The First Steward and the First Builder were the highest ranking brothers in the Night’s Watch alongside the First Ranger under the Lord Commander. Jon wasn’t here, however. He was down south with over a dozen of his black brothers. He was not frightened of that though, not anymore. When Sam first heard that Jon was heading south with Stannis Baratheon Sam had paled at that. Jon could not possibly have known way was going on south of the wall nor could he know the implications of riding with King Stannis. “The Night’s Watch plays no part in the quarrels of the realm.” Sam had said to Jon, too much by reflex to have a stammer but after Jon made it clear that he was adamant in going south Sam had stammered then and the boy who was his first true friend got angry with him and reminded him of all the reasons why Jon had ordered Sam to leave and go to Old Town with the Maester and Gilly’s baby, only then telling Sam that it was meant to be Mance’s child not Gilly’s that was to travel south. Samwell Tarly could not believe Jon’s words and gaped at him until he left, and gaped long after half in a daze. Perhaps I should… should meet up and talk to Gilly and Val. Everyone had taken to calling Val a Princess of the Wildlings, but Sam knew better though he had been swept up in the craze when it was first mentioned. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]As Sam marched on remembering he slipped and fell to his knees in the mud that covered the yard. A yelp came from Sam’s throat before he could beat it down. The fall had hurt, but it had not hurt so badly as to leave him helpless in the mud and muck. For the fifth time Sam thought That’s queer, I never used to fall this much. Sam had thought something might have been wrong with him the third time it happened and told Maester Aemon such, but the old Maester chuckled warmly and said “Members of the Night’s Watch know the perils of slick ice all too well, but often times we forget that slick earth and stone carry the similar perils.” Mud and wetness streaked Sam from the top of his britches to his feet as he struggled to his feet. Queen’s Men were laughing on the other side of the courtyard and one of them called out “Slayer!” Sam did his best to put that out of his mind when he noticed that Bowen Marsh was in the yard arguing with someone. Sam blinked got onto his feet and made his way to him. Bowen Marsh was at the stables ordering some of the stewards to get two dozen mounts ready to ride. “My l-l-lord, I have letters from m-Maester Aemon that you should see.” The First Steward gave Samwell Tarly a dismissive glance. “It will have to wait until I return.” Sam didn’t understand, but his responses came out disorganized and incomprehensible. Bown Marsh touched a scar that he received on a bridge near the Shadow Tower before looking down at Sam “The day before last the Weeper was spotted outside the Shadow Tower and Denys Mallitser had sent a request for aid. The Lord Commander may be gone too long and I will not allow that Monster to attack our sworn brothers without facing the consequences.”[/FONT]
[FONT="]The Lord Paramount of the North and Master of Winterfell was silent, his face was as if carved from stone. He had said all he needed to say. He had heard all he needed to hear. He will head south to hear the whole truth of what transpired between the Prince and his youngest daughter. He will hear the truth and he will make his judgment. Robert was a pale white when he first heard the message read aloud, but afterward the shame and horror that might have occupied his face evolving into rage. It had been a quick transition, not unlike most of Robert’s changes in mood. Eddard Stark and Robert Baratheon had been as close as brothers once. The love they bore for one another was real and true, but if it ever came to their children or their friendship there could be no doubts what either of them would choose. Robert muttered an angry curse. “Joffrey is my son Ned, your wife’s own letter makes mention of my son being attacked and my wife and children seized. What harm was actually done?” Eddard looked at Robert will cold grey eyes. “My daughter was nearly slain by your drunken son as he thought to discipline the boy she playing with. It would not have mattered if there was a cut or not, harm was done. If a man sought to stab you in your bed would you pardon him simply because he was too clumsy with drink to get a proper cut into you? I think not. If the situation was reversed-”[/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]“If the situation were reversed I would hand over the command of this army to Lord Umber and drag you down to Winterfell with a warhammer in my hand.” Robert said, angrily and without thinking. It took him a few moments before he roared in anger and frustration. “Damn it Ned, don’t you realize what is going on? Stannis’s lies have spread throughout the camps like wildfire and already your men have begun to suspect my boy. If Joffrey is suspected then my other children are suspected. I have known Joffrey has a dark side to him for a long time, I just never thought…” Eddard Stark added steel into his voice “that he would try to murder the sister of his betrothed? I do not care if Joffrey’s legitimacy is damaged Robert. I do not care if the monster loses his head.” Robert’s eyes shot upward and glared at Ned with murderous rage swelling within them. “I will not be the one to do that, as much as I would like to. Know this Robert, if these accounts are proven true I will not have that creature stay under my roof. There are lords that may wish to give shelter to him, let them feed and provide for him. The boy will never be a guest of Winterfell again. The betrothal is gone Robert. Sansa will marry a good man and true. I will never bend the knee to that creature either.” Robert stood his face reddening the words washing over him. Eddard Stark did not know whether or not Robert had understood his words, or if his anger had made him deaf. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]Jamie Lannister was dressed in the finest whites of the Kingsguard and he seemed almost amused by the argument. Apart from the Kingslayer, the King, and Eddard the tent was empty. Eddard Stark could only stare in disbelief at Jamie before being reminded of Robert’s fury. In the King’s hand a flagon of wine had shattered and blood was dripping from the remnants in his hand, yet he did not seem to notice as he motioned to pour. It was only when no wine filled his cup that there was an explosion, a terrible cry that Eddard had only heard in the fields of battle. The king punched the table before him with such force that the partially damp wood cracked. Unable to ignore the commotion several guards burst into the tent, fearing that there had been some kind of attack. One look from Robert sent most of them away, the few that remained were subject to another tremendous shout he could only get say one word “Out!” None remained in the tent after that, but Eddard Stark knew that a whole host of ears would be outside the tent. Jamie Lannister took advantage of the silence and smiled thinly at him. “Lord Stark, surely you speak out of emotional distress for I am certain you did not mean to say that you will not bend your knee to the next lawful ruler of the seven kingdoms?” Jamie brushed the hilt of his sword, a clear warning. One Eddard was deaf to, though it appeared as though the same could not be said for Robert. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]“Be Quiet! Go fetch me some wine if you have nothing better to do than blab with that Lannister tongue of yours.” Jamie’s smile disappeared and for a moment Stark wasn’t sure if the Kingslayer meant to make good on his name, but the moment washed over his face and visibly there was something of a shrug before he left the tent. “Do you mean to betray me for Stannis?” Robert asked bitterly. Ned Stark looked at the man who once called him closer than any of his living brothers. “Your grace,” Ned was speaking carefully then “you are my king and my friend, we have heard much and more about Joffrey from the north. You say Stannis will try to use this, that it will put the legitimacy of your children on trial, and all the other things you fear might come to pass. The war here is done Robert. Stannis fled to the Wall and will not return, we both know him too well to believe he will go back on his word. Some of my men will remain here and should Stannis even think of bestirring himself he will soon rue the day he ever departed north. I have followed you to war twice without any hesitation or doubts in my heart. What would you have us do except return south to Winterfell? What would you make me do after receiving this letter?” Robert shifted uncomfortably in his chair, but the anger was still on him. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]“I would have you leave this matter to me. Do you hear me Ned? Leave this matter to me. You say you don’t want Joffrey under your roof? Fine. I’m sure Lord Umber will like a prince as a ward. You say you don’t want Joffrey betrothed to your daughter? Fine. You have other children, as do I. I can see you are in no mood to hear of it now, but I’m stuck in the north for the time being so the time will come again. Does my consenting to half the bloody demands you gave me make me humble enough for you? If this matter is true and Joffrey did attack your daughter I will make certain he never touches another woman again until the day he’s wed. It will be at least that long until he can lift a sword after I’m through with him. You will kneel to him though, promise me this of you now Ned. You will kneel to my son when I am dead and gone.” By rights Eddard Stark should have been happy with this. In no small way he had won when this could easily have ended in blood, but why was he having such doubts? Joffrey is not your son Robert, that should be plain enough for you to see. Your queen has betrayed you, dishonored you with her treasons. Treasons conducted with her own brother, if that part can be believed. Why are you so blind? That would have destroyed Robert. The day he came to that realization would be the day that Robert would hand the crown over to Stannis and Eddard would lose his greatest and oldest friend. “I will Robert, I will kneel to your trueborn son.” It was a small betrayal, another that his friend was blind to.[/FONT]
[FONT="]Jon Snow had heard of the raven like most else in the camp, but Jon was nowhere near certain what its contents may yield. It may even have heralded the discovery of the Vale or the Trident. Part of Jon could still not believe that the lands south of the Neck had disappeared, such talk was madness. Yet Jon did not doubt his father when he put his word to something and when the skies themselves have changed and alongside the times, why could not the land have changed as well? The realm may well be in as many as four pieces thrown about the sunset sea. That was far from the only shock, however. Though it has been days since Stannis relinquished his crown and returned north to the Wall it still seemed queer that the hard man who was fond of threatening him and reminding him of his rights and the laws of men would so easily surrender the crown that he had fought so hard for. When Jon thought of what Robb would have done he doubted the decision would have come so easily. If the King had been a Targaryen Robert Baratheon would have led an army with a warhammer to end him, fighting to his own. Would Stannis have gave up his crown to a Targaryen? Jon did not know the answer. So much has changed, Jon could not even begin to put into words the exact nature of the transition. Yet Jon still realized that he had not told them everything. That there was much and more that they still had doubts about that needed convincing. This was especially true when it concerned the free folk; their need to save them from the others. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]“You know nothing, Jon Snow”[/FONT][FONT="] the memory came to Jon. It seemed cruel to Jon that the times would be reversed but Ygritte would still remain taken from him. Jon Snow had almost been close to telling his father and uncle about Ygritte and his feelings for her, but he could not betray her. His father may have been the one person who would be able to understand the truth, after all even Eddard Stark forgot his honor with a woman, if only for a night. Jon Snow had broken his vows with her in a way he did not when he was serving alongside the other free folk. For a few mad moments Jon had believed that Ygritte may have been south raiding, but Ygritte never climbed the Wall before and had mistaken a tower for a castle. She had never been south. The realization was like a punch in the stomach and it hurt. Dolorous Edd was fetching some lunch to break his midday fast, but Jon had forgotten all about that and was deep in thought when a stew was put in front of him. “What is it?” “A meat broth my lord, me thinks there may even actually be a piece of meat in it too. It might not even be a rat this time.” Jon had to smile. The sun had shown through the clouds, his men were better fed here in this camp than they had been at the Wall for some time, and he had his family back. No, you have no family. Your name is Snow and you said the words. There are only brothers now.[/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]Jon forced himself to remember that, but it only served to remind him that he did have a family and that they are only trip south away. Instead Jon forced himself to focus on his food and began to eat it. Jon had learned better than to look too close at his food when he had first travelled north, but here he was tempted. The stew actually looked like a stew and for that Jon was grateful. There would be no time to enjoy his meal, however. Robert Baratheon’s roar made Jon rise to his feet and immediately make his way to the King’s Tent. By the time he arrived the Kingslayer was leaving the tent. Jon could not tell if he was amused or angry, and the uncertainty troubled him. Jon looked around to find familiar faces and could only see Theon’s apart from his Black Brothers. The look Jon gave Theon was chilled and Theon had the grace to look ashamed when he noticed Jon’s glance. “What happened?” Jon asked the nearest of his brothers. “The Prince assaulted Lord Stark’s daughter with a sword.” Sansa! Could Joffrey truly be so mad? If my lord father believed my words to be true then this will end with Joffrey’s head mounted on a spike. Jon flexed the fingers of his sword hand. They had stiffened from disuse since Jon had left the Wall and its training yards. Jon was slowly rousing himself with fury at the thought of Sansa having to suffer from Joffrey’s abuses twice. Jon was half tempted to mount his horse and head to Winterfell with all haste, but when he looked around he remembered his color. “I am a brother of the Night’s Watch, I am the Watcher on the Walls, the Sword in the Darkness, the Shield that Guards the Realms of Men.” [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]Jon, bitterly, left the company of the gawkers to return to his tent. Jon found that he had no more taste for soup, broth, stew, or whatever was placed inside of his bowl. When Edd returned Jon spoke, half to himself “why were such ill tidings brought on the first good day the gods have given us in over a moon’s turn?” Why is history repeating itself Jon might have asked, but he knew in his heart that history would not repeat itself. If Sansa was hurt by Joffrey then Joffrey would never be King up in the north while the rest of the realm remained missing. Jon turned from mournful anger to a strange, mad laugh. “Edd,” Jon began “I think it’s time we’ve returned to the Wall.” An hour or so later Lord Stark paid Jon a visit, Jon had little doubt that he would be there to tell him the news. “How is Sansa?” Jon asked, almost as soon as Ned entered his tent. “Sansa if fine Jon, Arya is another matter.” Jon Snow stiffened, his sword hand flexed, and the anger that swelled within him was returning again. Arya!? Lord Stark immediately sensed his distress “She is unharmed Jon, she was quick enough to dodge the prince’s blows. Her direwolf is expected to live.” Jon was growing incredulous “where was Robb, where was the Lady Catelyn, where was” a brief awkward pause “was I?” For a brief moment Jon had thought that his father might have showed a thin smile, but it was quickly taken over by a shadow of pain. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]“You were the first to rush to defend Arya… had you not been there my daughter would be dead. Thank you Jon, though I will have to thank you again when I return south.” Ghost entered the tent silently, as if he were a white shadow. Jon’s father had grown used to seeing Ghost this size now, but when Lord Stark’s eyes fell on Ghost his father looked even more pained. “I do not understand how to say this. The you that you were was injured by Joffrey and the Hound. My Jon at Winterfell will take some time to recover, but Ghost may not survive.” Jon looked at ghost and without a second thought he reached down and petted his direwolf before bringing him close to embrace him. Jon knew that his Ghost was fine, he could see that plainly. But the thought of any Ghost dying had pained him beyond anything Jon could express in words. Ghost was a part of him, the part that the other Jon may lose. “I mean to head south with the King and learn the truth of this. You have my word Jon, if Joffrey is guilty of this there will be consequences.” Jon did not take much solace in that. Jon wanted to be the one to head south and avenge his sister and his direwolf. The Night’s Watch plays no part the thought crept up inside Jon’s mind and it was only then that he remembered his duty. Jon rose stiffly “My lord, if you are heading south I will leave Joffrey in your hands. My place is at the Wall, and I will count on you to stay true to your words both in this and with your promise of reinforcement.” Eddard Stark looked at his son for a long moment before giving his ascent. After some more words were exchanged the two departed, both bound for opposite directions come the morrow.[/FONT]
[FONT="]“Your grace, I-” Stannis interrupted Axell Florent. “You will say ‘my lord’ or you will not address me at all. You and Melisandre must come to understand that I am not your king. Robert is.” Davos Seaworth could see that Stannis’s patience in regards to his title change was long since worn out. If ser Axell was not his wife’s kin Stannis might have called him a fool to his face as he had the last of the men who referred to him as ‘your grace’. Davos had made the mistake twice, but he had grown into the new role Stannis had taken when he laid his crown at his elder brother’s feet. Davos remembered a time when he had been uncomfortable and unused to calling Stannis his rightful style as befit a king. That in its own way was a greater issue than Davos being called ser and later a lord. Davos was briefly Stannis’s Hand of the King, but that was done with now. Davos rules in name only of a lordship he had never once truly seen while his wife and family are also south and far from Davos’s reach. Now that Stannis’s bid to become King has ended Davos wanted nothing more than to return to his wife and remaining sons. Devan was a good boy and the King’s own squire, Davos would not take that away from him. Yet, Davos could not shake the feeling that he barely knew his children anymore and the thought had saddened him. Salladhor Saan had offered Davos the opportunity to go home once perhaps Saan made it back to Lys and is cursing me for his losses. Davos was too far from the sea and it seemed as though Lord Seaworth would not be returning to the shores of the narrow nor the sunset sea for some time. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]“My lord” Axell began, looking the part of a flattering fool “there is no man who would be a truer and more just king than you. The lady Melisandre has seen in her flames. You are Azor Ahai and the wielder of lightbringer!” Stannis stared at him for a long moment. “Do you mean to say something worth my hearing or do you mean to prate on about stale reports. I am Azor Ahai and I intend to become king again if Robert bears no trueborn children, but I need no comfort or solace from you ser Axell.” Ser Axell seemed to become delighted with the prospect of King Robert’s death. He is a dangerous man Davos thought but would he lay a hand on one of Stannis’s own kin? Stannis surrendering his crown to his brother had brought nothing by disruptions to his ranks. Most of the Queensmen seemed to be in perpetual denial, making the trek back to the wall an unending wave of repetition. Every knight in his service and every wildling he had won over with threats and strength tried to persuade him, none more avid than ser Axell Florent. He will be a lord though Davos remembered, Stannis means to give him one of the Wall’s forts. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]Stannis, the man to which Davos owed everything he ever was or will be and the promising future that his children will have, had procured five forts on the Wall from Lord Commander Jon Snow. The Nightfort which will be Lord Stannis’s seat, Stonedoor which will be ser Axel Florent’s seat, Greyguard which will be ser Massey’s seat, the Torches which will be ser Horpe’s seat, and Oakenshield which Lord Stannis intends to be Davos’s own seat. Davos no more wanted to be Lord of Oakensheild than he had wanted to be Lord of Rainwood and said as much, but Davos would follow whatever his lord bid of him. “My lord because you are Azor Ahai come again you must face against the Great Other whose name must never be spoken and smash his dark minions.” Stannis was shifting uncomfortably in his chair, Davos noticed that Stannis always felt uncomfortable when he was brought into the role the red woman gave him in the name of his new red god. This was less true when it was only ser Axell, but Melisandre remained his red shadow even now. Melisandre’s grasp over Lord Stannis may have waned, but she still saw certain things in her flames and her magic was still real enough for Stannis to maintain whatever faith he may have placed in their god. Davos noticed that Melisandre’s red ruby throbbed as ser Axell was speaking. Ser Axell paused, as if the ominous nature of the message he was carrying would cause Stannis to consider. It did not. Much like the cold and stale conversations about how Stannis should be King, talk about Stannis’s war with the dark god was perhaps even more overdone.[/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]“I am aware of that ser Axell, I will carry on our war from the Nightfort. Yet, first among my concerns is Mance Rayder. The Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch informed us on our descent down that the pretender who burned was south of the wall when my brother feasted at Winterfell. I have no doubt that if he gets passed the Wall that he will be able to gather the whole host of wildlings again and this time when they march south I will not have the element of surprise. If Mance Rayder appears to have miraculously returned from the dead my wildlings may well prove as false as much and more of the southern lords that once gave me fealty.” Melisandre then moved and raised her voice “This pretender will not hold your grace.” Stannis gave Melisandre a look of disapproval but did not interrupt. “This ‘King Beyond the Wall’ will be half a stranger to the people he once called a subject. There are knives all around him.” Stannis clenched his jaw “Will the false king die or not?” Melisandre walked over to one of the nightfires in the tent and seemed to cradle the fire with her fingers. “I cannot be certain your grace, the flames of a man’s life cast many shadows. The false king seems to perish in half of my visions. In one of my visions the false king stood eyeless in the snow atop a rotting stallion with all the fiery warmth of life taken from him. The number of shadows that his flame casts that end with him alive are shrinking by the day, of that I am certain. This false king may wish to stand against you, but he is only hastening his death.”[/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]Stannis looked at Melisandre for a moment before his jaw tightened again. “What else do you see in your flames Melisandre? For all the certainties you’ve spoken I am left with only doubts. The wildling King Beyond the Wall’s number of paths that lead to life are dwindling, but they are not yet all snuffed out. You would have me wait for the treachery of his own comrades or for the world of the Great Other to deal him in while I sit around and do nothing. That I cannot do. I owe a duty to save all living men with fire in their breast and breathe in their lungs. Much and more will die in this war, but that does not mean I will resign myself to the sufferance of men. They will kneel to me and to the realm and I will let them through the gates if they agree to my terms. These were my words when I arrived at the wall a King, they will remain my words and true when I return a lord. From you I want certainties or I want you to have the courage to say you have none.” Davos Seaworth wondered if the Stannis still had any authority to let the wildlings through the Wall anymore, but Davos did not think that bringing that up would be of any use now. When Davos looked toward Melisandre, awaiting a response to the King’s request, Davos was certain he would never know the mind of the red woman. “I see you, your grace. Thin and young, much younger than you are, staring down on a field of golden flowers and an ocean of grapes. I see a young wolf gnawing on the bones of three dogs while a Lion makes a den out of a cave of bats. I see a silver queen presiding over bone and ash, mother of three flames. I see much and more your grace.”[/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]Stannis scowled. “I am no grace Melisandre and these are not certainties. They are riddles within riddles and if I am young in them then they are of a distant, dead past.” Melisandre looked at Stannis and with an unsettling and partly hypnotic gaze she continued. “These are certainties your grace and they are not of the past. These are the flames that I have observed of the present. The world has changed you grace. The skies and the seasons are not the half of it. Soon you will learn that the narrow sea and the sunset sea are no more and that the realm is divided by time and location in a way that even I did not think possible.” Stannis’s scowl did not relent. “Leave me woman and take ser Axell with you. I must think on this.” The two swiftly departed leaving none in the tent besides himself as his lord. “What do I call you now that you are not my hand?” Stannis asked Davos, as if only half remembering that he was still in the tent. “Whatever pleases you best my lord.” “‘My Lord’? Hah!” Stannis spat out the words venomously. “I am a lord of ruins Davos. I will return to the Wall a beggar now. Do you know about the Beggar King Davos? He was Rhaegar’s younger brother and the last true Targaryen claimant to the realm. While in the beginning people were warm to him and offered him a place in their rich manses they were deaf to his pleas for aid and some fool out to please my brother would try to kill him forcing the Beggar King to find a new patron. This went on for the entirety of my brother’s reign and it drove him mad and bitter to the point where the fool went against a Dothraki Khal.” Davos felt the need to answer that. “My lord, you are no Viserys and you will never be a beggar.” “Leave me Davos, I will need to tackle the idea that there might be two of me in the world. Two of R'hllor's champions.” If there are two of you, then the world is all the better for it, Davos might have said. Instead he left without another word. [/FONT]
Part One[/FONT]
[FONT="]The Wall: Jon[/FONT]
[/FONT][FONT="]A small respite for Jon had been that Samwell and Maester Aemon had been held up in Eastwatch, otherwise a blind old man and his stammering friend would have been easily slain. After the worst of the rebellion had been quelled Jon Snow could only try to put the pieces back together. Scared, scarred, and weakened, Jon Snow had been forced to acquiesce to some of Stannis Baratheon’s demands and cede more than just the Night Fort. Five castles on the wall now do not belong to the Night’s Watch, but it had been the best move available to him. Wildlings were flooding through the wall to escape the dangers and fears beyond it and were settling into the gift. Stannis had sent ravens to all of the major houses informing them of his rightful claim to the Iron Throne, his war against the others, and his demands that the wildlings be allowed to settle freely. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]Which has led to something queer. The Umbers of Last Hearth, the Mormonts of Bear Island, and the Karstarks of Karhold had sent their own ravens in return. All of them denied that a war had ever taken place and referred to King Robert feasting at Winterfell. Jon had found that hard to believe and had sent out scouts and riders, as had Stannis. Jon Snow had now been summoned to the King’s Tower yet again by King Stannis. Jon could guess at the reason why, another raven had arrived from a northern house. Perhaps one of his riders had stumbled on something important. Perhaps King Stannis wanted yet another one of the walls forts. One thing was certain, Stannis would want something from him. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]As Jon Snow climbed the stairs of the King’s Tower he found himself feeling much warmer than he had before. The weather had been much better than it had any right to be as far as Jon was concerned, but it could ensure that there was one last harvest before the coming of winter. Ghost was following behind him along with a few of his brothers, a precaution that Jon had more or less been forced on him after the attempt on his life. He was Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch and Maester Aemon had stated that he would always be vulnerable to another attack until his brothers knew for certain what was to come. Melisandre, Stannis’s Red Woman, had said very much the same thing though she had been certain that this was a gift from the Lord of Light. Still, as Jon Snow was about to enter the Stannis’s chamber he was asked to turn over his arms and leave his wolf and guards where they were. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]Jon Snow had almost regretted that decision after seeing Stannis, Melisandre, and a few of his lords from the south. Stannis’s face was a deep red and his words were spat out with venom. When he was not speaking his teeth were audibly being ground and clenched from across the room. He paid Jon Snow no mind, but after some moments Melisandre had been able to calm him enough for him to see that Jon Snow was standing silently in the doorway. Then he barked one order at those around him: “Get Out!” The lords, some confused and others angry, fled the room moving behind Jon to leave. Stannis’s face began to drain from its bright red color as he breathed to calm himself. When Melisandre began to speak more words Stannis added another command “You too woman.” When she left Stannis ordered Jon to sit and hear the newest treasons that had come. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]“Did you hear? Some bloody mummer has written a letter on behalf of my brother. The creature stole his seal and claimed that it came from Winterfell. They even got his signature right, I can’t even tell the difference.” Stannis must have seen something on Jon’s face that he didn’t like and clenched hard before throwing a crumpled parchment to him. “See for yourself if you doubt me. Gods know I would have thought you were a fool if you didn’t.” Stannis squirmed visibly in his chair. Gods? As if hearing Jon Snow’s thoughts Stannis corrected himself in his next sentence. “Melisandre thinks this is a gift from the Lord of Light, this good weather and that warm damnable glow. It was as if summer had come and the Wall had not stopped weeping since. Gift!?” Stannis spat. “No one can call this thing a gift. The warm weather has made the wildlings not yet in my service bolder in their defiance. Others are scared out of their minds by the lightshow a moon’s turn ago. This… This thing is not a gift. It’s a curse! Some of the riders that returned to me seem to corroborate all these lies that have been coming. They even brought along some small folk who prattled on, not even knowing that there was a war ravaging their homes not a fortnight ago. What are you doing? Read! I command it.”[/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]Jon had watched and listened to Stannis’s words and he knew the truth of it. Everything that had happened since the skies themselves were changed was wrong, Jon could feel it in a way that was not just a change in the weather. He did as he was bid and unraveled the parchment. Jon had not believed it at first, but he felt as though he recognized the hand. His eyes moved across the page studying all of the words. Robert was threatening to hang the fool that sent these ravens and had some choice words for Stannis should he had been here. “It even sounds like him.” Stannis had said quietly, his rage given away to something more subdued. He was tired, Jon saw. “Melisandre cannot see anything in her flames about this, but she knows that I must go out and challenge the person claiming to be my brother.” Jon said nothing, he just shifted his gaze from Stannis to the paper and back at Stannis. “I wish it were true” Stannis said at last, “If Robert is alive then maybe Renly is alive. Perhaps the Lord of Light had done something that I thought was impossible and returned my family to me. Gave me a second chance to do everything right and remove the abominations from his side and tell him the truth.” [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]“It may be so, your grace.” Jon said after another moments pause. Stannis raised his eyes to Jon’s and his face was filled with skepticism. Jon could tell he was searching him for something. “Are you a fool Jon Snow? My brother is dead. My realm has bled and pretenders have tore itself to pieces. I have too few men presiding over ruins. This letter is no more than a mummer’s farce that will ruin me if I allow it.” Jon looked at the paper. “Your grace, I recognize this hand as well.” Jon paused a moment and then continued “This letter was written by the hand of Maester Luwin who served my father and taught me letters and sums. He was killed along with my brothers when Winterfell was sacked.” Stannis looked at Jon for a long moment, scanning his face before he began to speak. “If you’re lying about this…” Jon did not need for him to finish, it would mean his head. Stannis had made a similar threat before and would make more in the future. Yet as he was being dismissed Stannis’s face softened. “Perhaps we’re both fools Jon. Prepare whatever you need to Lord Snow. We will depart on the morrow at first light.”[/FONT]
[FONT="]The North: Eddard[/FONT]
[/FONT][FONT="]Haste was of the essence however. The longer Ned stayed in Winterfell the more wildlings would spill into the north. Robert had wanted to amass all the strength of the north and bring it down upon the wall, but that would take too long and leave the north far too vulnerable. Ravens were sent to Last Hearth, Karhold, the Dreadfort, and Deepwood Motte. The houses of the far north would gather along the King’s road near the Long Lake. Long Lake had been the sight of a number of battles between the Lords of Winterfell and the Kings Beyond the Wall. From there the large host would march north in several prongs and meet Stannis and the Wildlings there. Ships would be of no use on the wall, and the wall itself has no real defense against any army moving from the South. Robert had sent Ser Boros Blount of the Kingsguard to White Harbor and gather what ships they could there and from there attempt to rally the strength of the seven kingdoms. Word has reached Winterfell that the Neck has been cut off from the south, but perhaps a route by sea will prove better. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]The real trouble with this Stannis on the Wall has been with the messages contained within his calls for fealty. Robb a usurper who perished at the hands of Lord Walder Frey while under guest’s rights, Bran and Rickon slayed by Theon Greyjoy, Winterfell sacked and broken, Roose Bolton a traitor and Warden of the north, House Tully broken, the Lannisters and Tyrells in control of King’s Landing, Robert dead, Jon Snow Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch, the abominable incest between Jamie and Cersei and the accusations against the King’s own brood. All of it was… too much to believe. Some of it felt as if there was truth to be found, but all together it read like the ramblings of a mad man. If not for the sheer multitude of ravens sent from the Wall, the day the skies changed, and the neck crashed into the seas Ned would have just sent Benjen with a few hundred men to go back to the Wall and Robert would laugh at the absurdity of it all. Ned would not laugh. It is said that laughter dies in the throats of men during winter and for that reason the Starks had so little humor, but even he would threaten a smile at this nonsensical tale after the sting of its treasons wore off.[/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]Yet as more time passed the harder it was for Ned to truly dismiss Stannis’s ramblings. Word of men of the night’s watch and Stannis’s men being sent from the wall being captured and questioned reaches his ears near daily, and the tales they tell even under sharp questioning remains virtually the same. The truth of this is something only the Gods know and at times Lord Eddard Stark wished for nothing more than to return to the Godswood and find comfort alongside the weirwood heart tree and the gods the dwell there. When he could not and the Lord of Winterfell was forced to wonder on might have beens, could have beens, and guessing towards the future part of him was always drawn back down to the past. His sister. “Promise me Ned” she would say, fearful and dying. Only promising his sister’s ghost would relieve her fear and allow Lyanna to pass on.[/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]It was only when it began to rain that Ned halted his small army’s trek through the mud and commanded the construction of camps to wait out the storm. Robert and the Kingslayer both would have the army move on through a torrential downpour, but doing that would only ensure chaos, hardship, and the loss of men. In the north the rain is a dreadful thing that can chill a man to his bones, unlike the in the south. When Robert found Ned waiting for his tent to be raised he roared and cursed, angry and bitter that the march was halted. “It is the rain you should curse, not me your grace.” Eddard finally said after Robert had nearly winded himself. “Damn it Ned! We should be marching and mounting treasonous heads on spikes! Instead we are stuck here in the mud and muck and filth. I want to kill something Ned.”[/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]The rains did more than delay us, Ned knew. They delayed Stannis as well and would send the wildlings into hiding until the rains have passed. “Your grace, the Umbers and Boltons are gathering near the Long Lake. By the last word we received from Karhold would put them less than a fortnight from there. The Glovers of Deepwood Motte are not long behind us. I can assure you no northman will risk being caught in a heavy rain.” Robert snorted “No ‘Northman will risk it’, but Stannis is not a Northman and the wildlings are savages. Do you think a little rain will put an end to their marching?” “He would be more the greater fool for it. His men will be beaten down with rain and sickness. Whatever host he has will be exhausted and his strength marginalized. Besides we hav-” “You think I don’t know this? Seven hells! A mad man sits on the Wall claiming to be my brother spouting all sorts of treasonous tales. Do you see a war happening here? Are we dead men Ned? Bugger that.” [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]Eddard was silent for a moment as Robert fumed and ranted but when it was done he began to speak “Your Grace?” “If you call me that again Ned I’ll put your head next to Stannis’s. I warned you before we’re more to each other than that. Closer than brothers, though I never loved my brothers.” Ned smiled and for a moment Robert’s face softened at that as well. Ned wanted to speak, to ask him if it was possible for any of it to be true. He could not, it was not his place and if it were true it would ruin him. He could do nothing but let the rain chill him to the bone.It was only when Robert called for wine that Ned began to speak again. "Robert I do not know what to believe, but I have faith in the man you were at the Trident. A strong man, a leader of men, and true. If the gods are just we will know the truth of this once and for all." Robert looked at him strangely for a moment, as if only now seeing the man dripping next to him.
Before he could speak a rider raced with water pounding off his cloak and armor. The man had nearly killed his horse by the way he was riding the poor beast. Robert cursed before calling out "What is it now?" The man had the arms of House Umber sown upon his breast. "My Lord," The rider began facing Eddard Stark before he noticed Robert's helm and immediately turned to say "Your Grace, Ser Axell Florent has come with a message from Stannis. They wish to parlay with us."[/FONT]
[FONT="]The Wall: Davos[/FONT]
[/FONT][FONT="]He offered me a ship though[/FONT][FONT="] Davos thought and a fine crew. All I need do was join Salladhor and become a pirate. That chapter of Davos's life was done though, gone with his service to King Stannis. Davos absent mindedly grasped for his luck, the severed digits of his left hand that he had kept around his neck. Gone, I have lost my luck. Davos had been frightened by the changes that this past moons turn had brought him. He had a wife and children waiting for him in the Stormlands. He used to have many proud and strong sons, but they had been robbed from him at the Blackwater. He only had a few sons left, two babes far away and one serving as a squire for King Stannis. Davos had never been a religious man before, but ever since that day he had prayed for the mother’s mercy and the father’s justice. Never aloud, his King served different Gods now. The Red Woman, Melisandre’s God. She was dangerous, Davos knew. Part of Davos had believed that this was her doing after he had decided the Seven had no part in this. Her or her God. Yet even as he felt fearful and angry part of him was overjoyed: If Robert is alive, as all we have heard of tells us, then Davos’s sons may be alive further south. He could return home and hug his children. They will not drown or burn in that monstrous battle. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]“Onion Knight are you going to stand there admiring the clouds until sun goes down or are you going to counsel me?” Stannis asked sharply from just inside the Tent. Davos then noticed several Queensmen far down the line of camps walking away from the King’s tent. “I’m sorry Your Grace, it will not happen again.” Davos said half by reflex. As Davos entered the tent a strong warmth went through him. Outside was cold and wet, but here by the King’s fires it was warm and dry. The King walked by a desk overflowing with parchments sitting atop a large map of the North. Everything below Winterfell was covered in papers, but all of the lands north of it were clearly visible. “My Lord Hand,” his King spoke after a moment “I will hear your words on this. Do you believe that my Brother is alive?” Davos paused a moment to think. He wished that Robert was alive with all his being, his life would mean the lives of his children, but he forced himself to hold back his hopes. “I lack the wisdom of greater men and would be better suited on a ship that to tell you the trueness and falseness in magic.”[/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]Stannis appeared agitated by his response. “I did not ask you about truth or falseness, only your beliefs.” Davos searched the room, as if hoping to find an answer laying somewhere. Even if there was one, Davos could not use it. The Onion Knight had been illiterate most of his life and had only recently begun learning his letters. He could read a parchment aloud, but with difficulty and would sometimes need correction. “I believe he is alive, Your Grace. I have been searching the villages and taverns and have seen no signs of war. Everyone I have asked have told very much the same tale.” Stannis gave half a laugh at that. “Yes, and Ser Axell Florent swears to me on R’hllor’s light that the King lives. Robert has agreed to parlay with us across the Last River. The Umbers have taken defensive positions all along the Kingsroad and behind the Last River so it seems that I have little choice but to consent to that.” Stannis appeared more amused by that than annoyed. He is a man who has found a brother he knew to be dead Davos thought and the doubts he had over him have largely vanished. It seemed as if King Stannis had gained back the same that Davos had. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]“What does the Lady Melisandre see in her flames?” Davos added, wearily. Stannis snorted, “What does she see in her flames? I wonder.” Stannis had begun to grind his teeth and clench his jaw. “She sees little and less these days and none of it is certain. The few visions that were granted to her have left me wanting. She is looking for more as we speak, but from what she has told me there is far more to this than just a change in the times. Something has happened to the World Davos, and she does not know what.” The words sent a chill down Davos’s spine. Could the Gods truly be so cruel as to keep his sons in their watery graves? “Jon Snow believes that I should bring along some of the giants and mammoths that have come over to my service to show the truthness of what I say. He says that his Lord Father would never believe the story I would say without some measure of proof.” Davos saw the truth of that. “Your Grace, you should take the Lord Commander with you to meet with Robert. Eddard Stark will surely be there and he would be of far more use to you there than back in camps.” [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]Stannis looked rather dismissive of that notion. “I had thought of that before, but that brings its own problems as well. The northmen will be suspicious of the boy and believe I may have murdered the previous Lord Commander to put him in charge of the Wall. My men think I cannot hear their whispers, but I am no fool Ser Davos. Those that believe part of my story have more dreams than sense and they taint the truth that I am telling.” Stannis began to grind his teeth again. Davos thought for a moment before saying “All the more reason to bring him along and dispel their doubts.” Stannis searched his Onion Knight a second time, before nodding in agreement. “That might serve. Very well, My Lord Hand you may go.” Davos turned and began to walk back towards the dark rainy gloom before Stannis spoke again: “Before you leave I have one last question. If Robert is alive and well, am I still King?” Davos could not answer him.[/FONT]
[FONT="]The North: Sansa[/FONT]
[/FONT][FONT="]Unlike herself. Sansa had taken the news that the neck was gone tremendously hard. She was going to be betrothed to Joffrey, everyone else said so. She had been ready to plead with her mother to allow marriage and go to King’s Landing. That had all changed when the skies turned and all manner of strange reports came in. They troubled her, more than she cared to admit. The Septa, her mother, and the Queen had all done their best to put on a brave face, but Sansa was not stupid and she saw that they were hiding some fear and could tell that something had gone horribly wrong. Only Arya, her stupid little sister, was not afraid. She had actually liked it, and said she had seen a hundred new stars that night. Sometimes Sansa wondered whether or not Arya was her true sister, she looked more like Jon than any of her mother’s children. Her mother had denied that, but the thought came nevertheless. It made her so mad sometimes, her sister. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]As if by some magic the Septa had noticed Sansa’s inner thoughts and came up to inspect her stitches. “Oh Sansa, you had done such beautiful work when you started out, but now they are all crooked and warped.” The Septa looked disappointed, and it made Sansa feel stupid and ashamed. It was all Arya’s fault. If she had not made her angry, if she had been a proper and good little sister like Princess Myrcella, then she would not have made such a mistake. “My sweet child can you tell me what is troubling you?” What is troubling me? Everything. Everything but my Prince and the Queen. “Nothing Septa, it is just…” Sansa stammered thinking of an excuse and not finding any “Stannis” she blurted out and the second thought came easier then “And the skies. I just don’t know Septa.” Myrcella looked up from her needlework paling as if the reminder had caused her discomfort and even Arya had seemed to take interest. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]“Sansa trust in your Lord Father. He has always done right by you and I have no doubt that he and King Robert will put an end to Stannis’s failed rebellion.” The Septa smiled reassuringly. Sansa had said only the first words to come to mind, but it was only then that she realized that the thoughts had weighed heavily on her and the Septa did make her feel better. “Robert is going to smash Stannis at the Long Lake just as he smashed Prince Rhaegar at the Trident” said Arya proudly and self-assured. Arya was smiling at Sansa, but Sansa had to frown at her. “It is not proper for a Lady to speak in such a manner Arya” the Septa said in a correcting tone but Arya didn’t seem to care and the Septa kept on talking with only a chastising look “But yes, there is a precedent established at the Trident. Dragonstone is a harsh place besides, Stannis cannot have much men of his own. Do you remember the bannermen sworn to Dragonstone Arya?” Arya scowled and Jeyne Poole looked confused. “House Velayron” spoke Princess Myrcella in a way that might have been mistaken for a question. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]“Correct Princess Myrcella, along with House Celtigar and Bar Emmon. These are noble houses of great prestige, but they do not compare in terms of strength or influence to the King, Lord Stark, or many of his Bannermen. Children, you have nothing to fear in this regard.” The Septa spoke in a matter-of-fact speech that left no room for further argument. The Septa was about to return to her station when the Princess Myrcella asked “What about the skies Septa? What about the South? When will we be able to go home?” Myrcella had looked half her age when she asked those questions and nearing the end there were tears in her eyes. The Septa looked at her, her previous air of certainly long since blown away. “I do not know child, but the seven will guide us through these trying times. Of that I am certain.” Myrcella said not a word for the rest of their time together and no one was paying any mind to their needlework.[/FONT]
[FONT="]The North: Arya[/FONT]
[/FONT][FONT="]An opening, Arya lunged at the Butcher’s Boy with her wooden sword. The older boy had seen her coming, however, and moved just far enough out of the way to make her miss. Then Crack! And again Crack! Now Arya was on the defensive, moving backwards as Mycah advanced. She needed firm ground to find her footing, but all there was at Winterfell these days were muddy patches of earth these days and puddles everywhere from the heavy rains. Crack! Arya lost her sword and her knuckles had been kissed by the wooden sword. Mycah was smiling, a warm and simple face. Arya could tell that she was scowling as she sucked on her knuckles to dull the sting. Yet after a moment Arya smiled and she got onto her feet, covered from shoulder to heel in mud. After swipping some of the Mud from her body she grabbed a handful of the soaked earth and threw it at Mycah. He curse and flinched away, long enough for Arya to grab her now wet wooden sword and lunge after him. Disorientated it did not take long for the Butcher’s Boy to fall to the ground, red faced and angry. The anger quickly vanished nearly as soon as it appeared and Arya reached down to give him a hand.[/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]The older boy instead pulled her back down into the mud and got to his feet. Arya was about to dart to her feet and charge into Mycah when she heard a familiar voice from behind her call out her name in disbelief. “Arya!?” Arya turned to see Sansa standing just a few paces away mounted on a horse riding alongside Prince Joffrey. Lady kept a quiet gentle pace behind them and the Hound kept an even greater distance from the pair. Sansa was wearing one of her better dresses, but the bottom of the cloth and silk had been stained brown with mud. Joffrey was holding something in his hand hidden from Arya’s view. She thought it was a sword for a moment before she noticed that his sword ‘Lion’s Tooth’ was still in its scabbard. Instead she saw him lift a skin of wine to his lips and then he laughed in a cruel way that made her want to smack him. “Your sister? Who's the boy assaulting her?"[/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]Mycah immediately fell to one knee, but Arya would have none of that. “What are you doing here? Go away!” The prince was annoyed by that, she could tell. It was only when Joffrey had tried to get off his horse that she noticed that he was swaying with the movements of his horse. He’s drunk Arya thought, incredulous. When she looked at Sansa Arya could see some of the same movements in her as well. They are both drunk! “Sansa father only allows us one cup of wine and only at feasts!” Sansa blushed, redder now that she was in her cups. Arya had spent many long days with the men that served at Winterfell and she had seen many men and boys drunk, she had even tried it once or twice but she never liked the way it made her feel before or after. But this was Sansa, she never disobeyed her father or her mother. Joffrey had peeled his lips in a half smile half snarl at the comment. “My betrothed can have whatever she likes.” Sansa had shied away from that comment too. That made Arya mad. What had happened to her sister? She acted like she was such a fool around Joffrey. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]Nymeria had moved closer to Arya now, and looked at the new group. Arya’s direwolf stalked over to Lady and gave her a lick across the face and lied down alongside her. Arya gave Nymeria a quick glare, as if to scorn her for the act of betrayal. The Direwolf seemed to notice Arya’s feelings all too well and soon returned to her muddy and her head low. That was a victory, if only a small one. Yet by now Joffrey was on his feet and coming towards Arya moving a bit too far to the right and left with each step he made. The Hound had dismounted and followed him, with a hateful look upon his face. All around the training grounds others were taking notice and looking on with interest. Mycah was still on his knee but as the prince approached he was paling visibly even though the grey clouds above had made him seem the color of milk already. That had unsettled her, so she moved to Joffrey in a way that headed off his march to the Butcher’s Boy. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]When Joffrey saw Arya standing in his way he looked confused. “What are you doing? Move aside little girl I have business to take care of.” The Hound put an arm on the prince’s shoulder after a large crowd had gathered. He shoved his hand away and roared a curse at him. Sansa was begging him to stop and shouting at Arya to do as he says, adding that she was ruining everything. When Joffrey had tried to force his way past Arya she gave him a quick shove and he fell backwards into the Hound, who prevented him from falling. With a fury on him Joffrey charged and pushed Arya to the ground and started calling her names, unspeakable names. In an instant a dozen onlookers began shouting and Joffrey turned to face them with eyes almost glazed over, drunk on wine and pure emotion. He was barking orders to the Hound that Arya could not truly hear but when she saw Jon’s face in the crowd she had tears in her eyes. Jon Snow turned and called to someone and then raced to her and to Joffrey. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]Jon punched Joffrey as he was giving him a command. This time she heard, the boy prince was commanding the training yard to be cleared with swords, arrows, and spears. He was threatening to harm them, to kill them, if they did not obey. The Hound immediately grabbed Jon from behind, lifting him clear from the ground, and threw him into the mud. Sansa screamed, Arya shouted, and Joffrey was on his feet with cold steel in his hand making hacking and slashing motions in the thin air. By then all of Winterfell was out in the open. Ghost and Nymeria both had charged at Joffrey, and then a bellowing roar came from the tiniest of men. The dwarf, Tyrion Lannister, had come mounted on a specially saddled horse. The Queen and Lady Catelyn were behind him with horror on their faces. Joffrey was hacking and kicking at the wolves, but they were too quick and he hadn’t noticed his uncle. Tyrion and a few Lannister guards were soon upon them. Joffrey then turned and nearly cut his uncle’s arm off as he did and pointed his sword at him. That was all it took, Tyrion slapped the boy prince right across the face and wrenched the sword from his hand and threw it into the mud. He barked a command at the Lannister guards. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]Nymeria had a deep cut along her side, Ayra had only now just noticed. “NO!” she cried, “Nymeria come here!” and then the direwolf came slowly to her, bleeding and staggering. Arya hugged her direwolf closely and cried even harder. She hated prince Joffrey. Hated. Hated. HATED! She called for help, but none could hear her. The Hound was carrying Prince Joffrey like a sack of flour over his shoulder back into the castle, Jon Snow was holding Ghost in his arms, his direwolf had red all over his coat, and Robb was next to him, shouting angrily for someone or something. Arya couldn’t hear anything anymore. It was too loud and Nymeria’s blood was staining her muddy cloths. It was only then that she noticed a figure holding her. It was her mother and as a drop of water fell down her cheeks Arya knew it was raining. [/FONT]
[FONT="]The North: Catelyn[/FONT]
She tried to force herself to become calm and reassuring to her children. Sansa had just seen the boy who was going to be her betrothed turn against her sister and nearly kill her. She would be hurting, wounded, and betrayed. Arya… She was shaking and crying Catelyn remembered she was hugging her wolf and calling for Jon, calling for Ned. Catelyn had never seen her youngest daughter so terrified, so wounded. As her mother Catelyn felt her fear, felt her pain, and she began to shake again with the fury that it brought back to her. Robb was standing by the door, he eyes staring down at the floor. Catelyn had thought he was sad or worried when she first saw him, but as she looked down to see what he was looking at she saw his sword unsheathed. “Robb, what are you doing?” Catelyn tried to sound stern, but there was a mix of scorn meant for others with a hint of grief in her voice. Robb lifted his face, there were tears forming in his eyes but none had fallen. Instead there was a face twisted with anger.
“Killing princes.” Catelyn wasn’t sure what to say to that except “No, now’s not the time for that. Your sisters need you, I need you. You cannot cause a war under our house.” Robb stared at her for a moment before a scowl appeared on his face. “You have nothing to fear mother, Helman Tallhart has escorted the royal family to a wing of the castle and has them under constant guard. Jory Cassel has taken command of that guard and has kept me far away from there. It was if he knew what I meant to do and he forced me to come here.” Catelyn knew she had to thank Jory and Helman and she was relieved to hear that, but Catelyn wanted nothing more than to see Joffrey in the dungeons. “Robb, there will be a time when you are the Master of Winterfell, but now you are a representative of your lord father. Would you have it said that the son of Eddard Stark had killed an unarmed boy a few years your junior, a royal prince no less?” Catelyn forced herself to say those words, words that she knew would shame him, but inside her heart Catelyn could never be more proud of him. Not only was he willing to stand up for his sisters, he was willing to put his emotions aside when it was needed.
Robb, however, did not appreciate the words and at first it seemed as though Catelyn had slapped him in the face. It was silent for a moment before Robb spoke wounded near as much as angry “I would not have killed your precious Joffrey unarmed, I would have sobered him up and put a sword in his hands before I slew him in combat. It would be less than he deserves.” Robb spat and pushed his way past his mother, muttering some crude courtesy asking for his leave. Catelyn said nothing and Robb did not wait for an answer. Grey Wind, Robb’s direwolf, made a low growl before following after Robb. Sobered him up? Catelyn asked herself dumfounded. Joffrey was drunk? In a way that had only made it worse and she was becoming angry all over again when the door in front of her opened. Maester Luwin was coming out, pale and covered in blood. “The girls!?” Catelyn blurted out, reflexively. Maester Luwin looked down knowingly and raised his head and forced a smile. A thin, quivering smile. “Rattled, scared, and frightened. Arya is covered in scratches and bruises, but no deep cuts. They are both fine and warming by the brasier.”
Catelyn was visibly relieved. It took a moment for the blood to register again, her mind jumping. The direwolves Catelyn finally realized. “What of Sansa’s and Arya’s wolf pups?” Catelyn had been grateful for their presence. When Arya was threatened they had rushed to defend her, Catelyn had saw them dancing around Joffrey’s blade as he hacked and cursed. When Ned, Robb, and Bran had come home with those wolfpups – three male two female – Catelyn had taken it as a sign. Just as she had taken the antler that had killed the wolfpups mother, a monstrously large direwolf, as a sign. Now it appeared as though the signs were coming true. Joffrey had nearly killed her daughter and would have. If not for the imp. The thought came unbidden. And the boy. For a brief moment Catelyn had the grace to feel ashamed, but the thought was forced from her mind when Maester Luwin began speaking. “Sansa’s wolf is unharmed. Lady, that’s what she is called, had been as dazed and powerless as Sansa. It was only when she screamed did the direwolf leap into action and charge the prince. There was some blood in the wolf’s mouth, but it appears as though none of the blood was her own.”
Catelyn had nodded in approval and she once again looked at Master Luwin’s cloak. “Arya’s direwolf, Nymeria, had been the first to attack and suffered what seems to be a broken bone and a sword blow along her left side. It had bled heavily, but the wound was shallow and once she was bound the wolf it was no longer in any danger.” Catelyn noticed the sound of sobbing in the door and was about to make her way into the room when Luwin continued. “The worse off was Jon’s albino wolf. When Jon rushed to confront Prince Joffrey the wolf charged with him. Nymeria received with a shallow cut and a broken bone, but with Ghost the cut had been deep and the wolf pup was kicked with such a force that several of the poor beast’s ribs were broken. I do not know if the wolf will live. Jon himself was injured, but he has refused all treatment until his wolf was attended. He is in another room and I was heading off to attend him.” For a moment Catelyn wanted to refuse Maester Luwin and order him to stay with her daughters, but she immediately felt soiled after the thought crossed her mind. The boy and his wolf had done all they could to protect her daughter, it would be cruel and dishonorable to not let Maester Luwin attend to him. There were six pups, not five. Catelyn suddenly remembered. An albino runt for Eddard Stark’s other son.
Maester Luwin passed her by when Catelyn gave his assent for him to leave. She was gathered her courage and went into the room. The brasier was hot and dry, with her youngest daughter sitting in front of a pile of furs. Arya was only half dressed with some bandages and ointments covering her. Catelyn could tell she had been crying by the way some of the colors smeared in elongated lines that followed the curvature of her cheeks. She had her father’s face. Ned’s face. Ned’s eyes. In front of her bundled in the blankets was her direwolf. Catelyn had not noticed it until she saw Lady licking was seemed be one of the furs. Her heart went out for the pup, but it was not the pup that concerned her now. It was her daughter. Catelyn had tried to marshal her courage but it was fading from her. The anger that she had been trying to keep down abandoned her without Catelyn even noticing. Instead there was fear, pain, and sadness. When Arya turned to face her, tears had started to swell in her eyes. Before Catelyn had a thought cross her mind she knelt down and embraced her daughter. The two of them cried, but Catelyn had at the very least stopped herself from sobbing.
Sansa was there too, dazed and still registering what had just happened less than an hour ago. Catelyn had saw her too, and it tore her apart that there were not two of her. She felt unmotherly when she kissed Arya’s forehead and pulled away. Arya had seen and she rubbed the tears away from her face angrily. Catelyn was proud of Arya too, and she forced herself to smile for her. With wetness still all along her cheeks she felt as though her smile was even less convincing than Maester Luwin. Sansa’s eyes had a deep red around them, but any tears she may have shed were dried by the brazier. She could not tell what was lying beneath those eyes as they looked blankly at the fire. Catelyn hugged her eldest daughter and was speaking soothing words. “You’re safe now.”, “I’m here with you.”, and other phrases that came by instinct. She repeated them over, and over, and over again until Sansa finally broke her daze and began sobbing. “I tried to stop them” she cried “I tried to tell her to do as she was told, to not make him angry.”
For a moment Catelyn wasn’t sure want to say to that and she merely held her daughter in her arms. Was Sansa blaming Arya? Catelyn couldn’t believe that, wouldn’t believe that. No sister would choose near a stranger over her own sister, no scion of riverrun would put something above family. She rubbed Sansa’s back and held her. Catelyn could feel the wetness of her tears falling onto her gown and that made her hold tighter. It was only when Sansa said something Catelyn would never have thought she would say, dreaded that she would say, did Catelyn let go of her daughter. “It was all Arya’s fault. She could see that Joffrey had been drinking. She provoked him. She didn’t listen! She was ruining everything!” It was more than Catelyn could bear. Every sentence was like a knife to her heart and Catelyn and forced herself to her feet, still half in disbelief. Arya began screaming at Sansa, half shouting half crying that Joffrey had tried to kill her, tried to kill Nymeria, had tried to kill Jon, Ghost, and everyone in winterfell. She had begun to break down when she looked at Nymeria again. Sansa was shouting back now, blaming her for everything. For provoking her prince.
“Enough!” Catelyn shouted angrily. Both girls stopped talking though tears were going down both of their faces. Arya was biting her lip, trying to stop her tears and failing. Arya looked hurt, she was feeling the same pain Catelyn was feeling. It took more than a few moments to process this… this… Catelyn could not find a word for it that suitably described it. Betrayal was not a word half as vile as she found for what had just happened. “Arya, leave us.” Arya looked at her blankly, her face beginning to twist in anger. “You always take her side!” the girl yelled, “I won’t leave Nymeria!” Catelyn was hurting now. “Leave. Check up on Jon and his direwolf.” Catelyn thought that would make her leave and it did. And thank him for me, she might have said, but Catelyn could not bring the words to her lips so they died on her tongue. After she had stormed out of the room Catelyn turned towards Sansa with pained eyes. Her eldest girl mistook that as an apology for Arya’s behavior. “Please don’t blame Joffrey, mother please. He was drunk and Arya pushed him. If Arya had only listened to what he said to her none of this would have happened. If only Jon hadn’t went where he didn’t belong and make things worse. He's not my brother, not a true one. He has evil blood in him, everyone says so. He attacked the prince! I hate him. I hate Jon! I hate Arya! They were so stupid and they are going to ruin everythi-” Catelyn’s hand was firm and strong.[/FONT]
[FONT="]The North: Tyrion[/FONT]
[/FONT][FONT="]“Sweet sister would you do me the courtesy of shutting your mouth?” Cersei stopped mid step and turned. She was angry now, perhaps too angry. Anger made her stupid. Sometimes Tyrion had loved it when Cersei was too stupid from anger, it made her that much easier to fool and manipulate. Now though, now her anger was going into dangerous ground. She had twice suggested that she should order her guardsmen to break through the Starks and flee Winterfell. That would ruin us. “Calm down, this is not as bad as it seems.” Cersei stared with contempt now, half in disbelief. “Not as bad as it seems? Tyrion do you realize what has just happened? My son was savaged by wolves, the crowd at winterfell had started asking for his head, and you want me to believe this is not as bad as it seems!?” Her voice was much lower than Tyrion would have expected for the emotion that she seemed to put into each word as she released them from her mouth. “Correction, your son is fine. He only has two bite marks on him and he’s missing none of his important parts. I would be more worried about the Stark girls than Joffrey. If the younger girl dies you can say goodbye to Joffrey. There’s a chance he might leave with his head, but if he does he is bound to the wall and you’ll never see him again.” [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]Cersei had some tears building behind her eyes, but she was still filled with enough anger and fear that there was no room for any other emotions. Tyrion felt somewhat sorry for her, but he couldn’t let that get in the way of what needed to be said. “Your son nearly killed the Stark girl and what was worse he did it in public. If there had been no witnesses we could have played this off as a child’s squabble and it would be on Joffrey’s shoulders to convince Sansa and Arya that it was not him, but the wine and fear of losing his home that caused him to attack. Sansa at the very least is love drunk enough to believe that and that would be the end of this. But there are witnesses. Hundreds and Hundreds more. All of them love Ned Stark, when a stranger to them nearly kills one of Ned Stark’s daughters they will be competing with one another to bare themselves as a witness to confirm the guilt. All our hopes now rest upon us doing what we can to make amends with the Starks.” Cersei had been glaring at Tyrion with her green eyes. “How do we do that?” “Apologize, fall down our knees and beg for forgiveness. Give the Lady Catelyn all the consolation we can provide. Tell her that Joffrey was drunk, that he feared that he would never see home again, and how he had not even recognized her. I’m a dwarf, a terrible stunted figure. He a boy of a young age but much taller and stronger than me. I was unarmed and ripped the sword from him though I am by no means a fighting man. Tell her that, it also wouldn’t hurt if you say he was eating some mushroom or something. Say anything you want to make Joffrey seem so stupid and so downtrodden that he never even saw Arya and instead saw a boy attacking him.”[/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]“You would have me turn against my son?” Cersei was still glaring, but Tyrion could tell that he had gotten to her. There was not half as much fear in those green eyes of hers, but the rage was still there and Tyrion had to get rid of that. Cersei must look humble, grieving, and at the very least feign an interest in the welfare of Catelyn’s children. “No, I would have you save him. If you go around praising Joffrey and blaming Arya or Sansa or even the Butcher’s Boy, talking about how he was provoked or felt threatened you might as well be handing his head over to Lady Catelyn. We didn’t see half of the fight, but what we saw left no room for any understanding. That ended the moment he drew steel against the Starks. Do not forget we are still guests under their house, we still have some rights to protection even if Joffrey has lost it. And when you go to Lady Stark you remind her in as subtle a way as possible that your two husbands are the closest of friends.” Cersei had started to ease herself and it no longer seemed like at any moment she would call Ser Meryn to slash his way through the Stark guard. “You must look pained when you say this, any of that fire in your eyes will build a bigger rift instead of starting a bridge.” “Do you take me for a fool?” Aye, a pretty one and dangerous too.[/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]“No, I take you for Jamie’s sister.” Cersei seemed to like that. You’re my sister too, Tyrion had thought about saying, but that would more than likely ruin all the latest progress he had won with her. Then Cersei started to darken a bit and started asking about her other children. “Catelyn Stark is not our father. You have nothing to fear as far as Myrcella and Tommen are concerned. Besides, Myrcella is well liked by the ladies in Winterfell and Tommen is friendly with the boy Bran. None of them are even a quarter the monster Joffrey is.” Cersei snapped her gaze back towards Tyrion glaring before trying to appear innocent and injured. Tyrion lifted a hand. “Save it, I have known about my nephew’s nature ever since I heard about him and the cat.” Cersei snickered. “It was just a stupid little cat, Robert had beaten him so hard that he lost two of his baby teeth. I threatened that I would kill him in his sleep should he ever lay a finger on Joffrey again.” Of course you did, but did you ever think to ask yourself whether a boy who ripped the unborn kittens from a pregnant cat he butchered didn’t deserve to be punished? Instead you may have encouraged that behavior and brought this tragedy upon us. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]“None of that matters now, only that you make sure that Joffrey is thrice over as saddened and grieving as the girl is. Two of the wolf pups look as if they’re as good as dead.” Cersei had been too satisfied with that. Your smiles will ruin us Cersei, where is all that cunning you used to have? Joffrey’s chamber had opened and the boy prince was standing in the doorway with a bandage around his left forearm and his right shin. He had a murderous look on his face. “I want that Stark girl’s head!” No. “Traitors, they’re all traitors! They attacked their royal prince! Striking a member of the royal family means death! I want all their heads!” No. Cersei be damned this boy will ruin us all. We’ve lost the Rock, we’ve lost everything but the north. This boy will see us lose that too. Tyrion walked towards his nephew as he was starting to command the Hound and Ser Meryn to deliver him the head of one of the Starks, or maybe the Snow boy. “What are you doing? Get out of my face imp! Don’t think I’ve forgotten your treasons.” It was only when Tyrion was a few inches away from his nephew did he truly notice how drunk he was, but this was a different kind of drunkenness. He has been stewing and supping on the promise of blood these past few hours and his eyes were seeing red in every corner. Tyrion was disgusted. For a moment he wondered if this creature was worth the trouble of saving, worth the sting that hitting him would leave. This is my kin, Jamie’s son. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]A hard wet sound echoed down the hall. Tyrion had barely noticed the tingling sensation in his hand, but he could see Joffrey’s nose and lip starting to bleed. As the boy in front of him shrunk by several feet in height hunched over and covering his face, Tyrion looked behind him with a pained and disgusted look on his face. His sister was pale, and not from Tyrion hitting her son. “I will go to Lady Stark and I will do my best to save your son, but you will fix this. You will fix this or he will die.” Cersei had only looked down at Tyrion with vacant eyes, and for a moment Tyrion wondered if she had heard him. It took a moment to truly recognize what he was seeing though, for it was something he had never seen in his sister before. Those are not vacant eyes, they’re terrified. It is just that her face has been frozen with shock, in a minute or two she will break. Tyrion suddenly wanted to comfort his sister for the second time in less than an hour, but if he did his words might have been lost on her. “Fix this Cersei or else he will not live long enough to see The Wall.” With that Tyrion marched down the hallway giving an order to Ser Meryn and some of the Lannister Guards to follow him as he went to meet with Lady Catelyn.[/FONT]
[FONT="]The North: Eddard II[/FONT]
[/FONT][FONT="]In truth Eddard did not know what to make of it either and was more than puzzled. He looked towards Benjen, his younger brother. Benjen always had a hint of laughter in his eyes, something uncommon amongst the Starks. Now the laughter has died away and his eyes were as cold as winter and his face grave. The Greatjon and the Dreadfort both concurred on this point as an indisputable fact and Eddard could not dismiss their words. Lord Bolton was a humorless man, hard and suspicious. Lord Umber was frank to a fault and although he was an embellisher of tales he was no liar. “Your grace, if the skies themselves have changed, the seasons twisted and altered, and the all that lay below the Neck disappeared believing in Mammoths and Giants would be amongst the least of our concerns.” Robert cursed and demanded a flagon of wine. “Seven Hells, where are the grumpkins and the snarks? The others take all of them and Stannis too. What is he thinking by bringing Giants down south with his host, how did he even find them in the first place?” The room had grown even quieter as Robert was showing his frustration. Ned saw the look of uncertainty in the room.[/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]“Your grace,” when Lord Roose Bolton spoke men quieted to hear him. His voice was unfailingly soft in both manner and volume, yet there was an air about him that commanded total respect and had made Eddard uneasy. There was something in his eyes that would unsettle anyone. “I believe it is obvious now to say that Stannis did not just arrive with his ships and take over the Wall. It would have taken weeks for him to do so and months to find, locate, and bring Giants beyond it. We would have had some word, some warning. There was nothing. It may be that there is some truth to what Stannis claims, though it may be that he has been lacking in facts. By all accounts of his envoys he has spent most of the ‘war’ he had been fighting on Dragonstone and isolated from the world, afterwards he chose to go to the wall and isolated himself further. I do not doubt that Stannis believes he knows the truth of things, but I wonder at his motivations and how they may have blinded him. Regardless the truer danger does not come from giants or mammoths, but in the other things Stannis has claimed to be true. For instance, the words you just spoke in jest may yet come to pass if this matter is not dealt with swiftly.”[/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]Eddard and Robert said nothing, both were sorting out feelings beneath the surface. Eddard Stark did not think he had half of the truth of the situation and Roose Bolton’s speech gave him the impression that there was something else being hidden. Eddard had heard tales that Roose Bolton had taken the position of Warden of the North after his son had supposedly died and Ned wondered how the Lord of the Dreadfort had earned that position. The Greatjon, however, did not believe in the Others. “I’ve seen a mammoth, I’ve seen a giant, I’ve seen a direwolf. Those are beasts of flesh and bone. I could make a fest out of a mammoth and kill a giant. I’ve scouted them, so has my boy. They are bigger than men, aye. Harrier too, mayhaps I might mistake one for my wife.” The Greatjon roared in laughter, and part of Eddard was thankful for it. “The Others are supposed to lead armies of the dead and ride ice spiders and dead things. The smallfolk near Last Hearth dig up the bones of giants and mammoths once a fortnight, I’ve yet to see even the vaguest hint of a White Walker.” Roose was less than convinced “I can assure you Lord Umber, I have questioned a few of the wildling deserters from beyond the wall… personally.” The word had been left to hang in the air for a moment before Roose continued “Many of them have seen what they refer to as ‘whites’ themselves. For that reason and that reason alone they bend the knee to Lord Stannis and his red God.”[/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]Benjen’s head seemed to snap to attention when he heard mention of wildlings bending the knee. “Who bent the knee to Stannis?” Benjen asked with a sense of gravity behind his words. Roose searched Benjen with his pale eyes before speaking “Some Magnar of Thenn and others that I cannot recall offhand.” Benjen stared in disbelief. “Styr was leagues away from the wall when I left and he’s a man who would die before he would bend the knee to anyone, him, the Weeper, Rattleshirt, and Tormund Giantsbane are amongst the most stout and unyielding of Mance Rayder’s underlings.” For a moment Roose’s eyes seemed to shimmer at that before he replied “Styr is dead, his son was the one to bend the knee.” “How did he die?” Roose was starting to get noticeably colder, as if his patience was wearing thin. It was a dangerous thing to question Roose Bolton with too much ferver, Eddard knew. “Donal Noye and Jon Snow killed him with an army of cripples and green boys at Castle Black.” This time it was Eddard who spoke, forgetting his own unspoken warning until after the words were on his lips “What do you mean about Jon Snow? I left the boy at Winterfell with my children. Any man who believes he is on the Wall need only ride south.” Roose’s face didn’t change its shape, yet somehow it appeared darker and the shadows that rippled along his ordinary features in the torchlight more exaggerated. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]“I do not think you meant to question the truthfulness of my speech my lord” a chill ran through the tent when Roose spoke those soft words, “I can assure you that the individuals I questioned had no lies left in them. The boy is riding south to meet us at the Last River and enough of my men have seen him to make that point unquestionably placed in fact.” The tent was quiet for a moment while Eddard tried to grasp the concept of Jon being at two places at once, it seemed impossible. Yet so much has happened that would have seemed impossible to any sane man a moon’s turn ago. His inner thoughts were interrupted by the Greatjon. “That is the truth it my own men have verified much the same tale. We will see for true it is on the morrow.” “The morrow?” Eddard looked confused, as did his brother and King Robert. “Lord Stannis has set up some tents just across the Last River a few days ago and every day he sends one of his pet ravens for news of your arrival to start the parlay.” For a moment the Lord of Winterfell thought that tomorrow may bring about the end of this business. No, Ned abruptly reminded himself. It will be the beginning.[/FONT]
[FONT="]The Wall: Davos II[/FONT]
[/FONT][FONT="]Davos did not think to count either himself or the Lady Melisandre amongst the men attending Stannis, however. Ser Davos Seaworth, Lord of Rainwood and Hand of the King, still felt himself a common man. King Stannis rose me up, gave me a name, and taught me the true meaning of Justice; my King’s Justice. Instinctively Davos reached to grasp at his luck, but this time he barely raised his hand a few inches before stopping himself. Instead he looked around to find Devan, but did not see him. Davos knew that even if he was not within Davos’s sight, his eldest surviving son would not be far from the King. Yet, as Davos searched he saw the king’s red shadow. The Lady Melisandre was dressed red in cloths that may as well suggest she was still on Dragon’s Stone. It may be a deal warmer in the North than it was when he had arrived, but it was still a miserable wet cold that seeped into the bones and threatened sickness and chills. It is as if she doesn’t even feel the cold Davos thought. As he looked at her Melisandre’s gaze matched his own and for a second Davos felt entranced in her red eyes before looking away. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]At least it was not raining, Davos thought. The rains had stopped sometime during the night, but the sky bore not a hint of its absence. The mix of different colors of steel and iron lay interwoven across the sky made it seem as though it was still raining. The wet chill hasn’t even left the air and there is not a hint of the sky that lay behind the clouds. Now was not the time to be staring at the sky though, now was the time to meet with King Robert. Davos could still remember that question asked a fortnight ago and he still could not come up with a suitable answer. Robert was the King before Stannis, but Stannis had become a King in his own rights as the true heir. None of the Queensmen even asked Stannis about that question, most like because it never even occurred to them. Lord Commander Jon Snow had already been ready to depart for the parlay with his squire Eddison Tollett, he was only staying behind as a courtesy. The wildling commanders had been slow to answer Stannis’s call, no doubt to their sorrow. Davos had guessed that the sun was up for nearly four hours when Stannis finally emerged ready to depart.[/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]“I am plagued with fools and flatterers Lord Davos” Stannis remarked to Davos has he mounted his horse. “None of them seem to think that this meeting could go wrong and that by my meeting Robert the war will be over and all that will be left is to defend the Wall. They do not know my brother and they do not know the Lannisters.” Stannis put extra weight into that last word. “If Robert takes my word as true then he will know the treasonous nature of Eddard’s son, he will know the treasons of his wife and the abominations he thinks of as his own kin, he will know of the treachery of the Boltons and half the other lords of the north, and he will know much and more that he will not like. It may well mean another war. Robert will not believe half of it. I have learned that lesson well when treating with other lords with only one of those truths. The water I give him will be pure, clean, and true. He will be suspicious of some hidden poison, and then it may be too late.” Davos did not have a word for his king, instead he merely listened as patiently and as respectfully as he could. Yet, part of him could see that Stannis is a deal stronger than he was at the Wall. His eyes were not so sunken, his shoulders seemed broader, and he sat his saddle just a little taller. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]“Whatever may happen, I suspect the key to solving this mess will be Eddard Stark’s natural son. Robert loved Ned Stark as a brother the way he never loved me. When I starved for him at Storm’s End and watched good men die as Redwyne and Tyrell soldiers feasted beyond my gates I received not a word of praise from him. Instead he praised Stark for showing up and relieving the siege, though he did not stay more than a moment as he left wih a few of his compansions for the south. Still I knew my duty and when my brother commanded me to build a fleet and take Dragonstone I did just that without complaint. It was the duty I owed him. Instead of thanks for defeating the last of the Targaryen holdouts I was cursed for not capturing the boy Viserys. I have told you all of this before, it is no less true now that my brother is back from the grave. If Jon Snow can convince Stark of the truth, then Stark will do the rest and I need only return to the Nightfort and wage the true war against the Others. The creatures of ice, creatures of cold, the true enemy to all that lives and breathes. I never asked for this duty Davos and if I lose my crown I lose my crown, I saw a crown consume me in the flames and I would do well to get rid of the thing. If I must keep it then I must keep it and do my duty. Yet we have yet even if all is well in all of westeros south of the Wall I still have my other duty, and the Melisandre has seen me waging the true war even now.” Davos listened and when a chill went through him he knew it had nothing to do with the left overs of the rain.[/FONT]
[FONT="]The Wall: Jon II[/FONT]
The Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch had at most two dozen of his brothers around him, though not the ones Jon Snow would have chosen had he still been a boy. Pyp, Grenn, and the rest of his brothers remained at the Wall. Instead Jon Snow has Dolorous Edd serving as his squire and steward who had only just brought up a dream he had the night before last. “I dreamt of the King pale as snow with glowing blue eyes and Eddard Stark headless besides him, they were both chasing after me calling me Stannis. Don’t know how the headless man was calling out to me, mayhaps he had another mouth hidden away somewhere, eh?” Edd had continued the tale and ended with a jape and a smile, but Jon could not keep his mind off of the upcoming meeting. Iron Emmet rode beside him and started a conversation, but just like Dolorous Edd’s tale it faded into the background. Ghost kept up with the relatively slow pace of the march to parlay. Stannis rode up ahead by nearly a hundred paces surrounded by maybe twice Jon’s number and a giant walking besides. It suddenly struck Jon as odd that they were going with so many men, yet at the same time if something had gone awry Jon would have wanted much and more of his brothers with him. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]Along the Kingsroad heavy tall trees lined either side in a densely wooded forest. The cool gray sky seemed to lighten a little as they edged closer to the bridge across the Last River. Whether that was from the approach of noon or the clearing of the skies Jon could not be certain. All in all the journey would have taken roughly two hours at a moderate gallop, but it had already been three. The giant had moved faster than most of his kind would, but even with its strong long legs its pace was slow. The Night’s Watch’s pace was also slowed, but this was intentional. The Night’s Watch takes no part in the squabblings of lords Jon Snow had reminded himself. Stannis was the King who Cared and the man who now owned nearly a third of the wall, but the Lord Commander could not afford to appear subordinate or allied to Stannis. This is especially true now. Even if Jon had only held back his pace long enough for it to be noticed that there are two separate groups moving south for the parlay it will have been worth it if only for appearances’s sake. The Gods know the appearances already would give the appearance that he had sold the wall for a few soldiers. When the image of the river was seen from a distance, Jon ordered his brothers to halt and there he waited. It had only taken a few moments for Stannis’s followers to notice that Jon had halted his march and soon they stopped as well. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]Two of Stannis’s men hurried to Jon. One was Ser Justin Massey, who looked at Jon with a searching look. “His Grace the King has requested your presence at the front alongside him.” The Night’s Watch plays no part Jon would have said, wanted to say, and had said so many times before. He did not say it though and instead he gave a command to Iron Emmet and Dolorous Edd to remain behind with the rest of his brothers and he went with Justin Massey and his companion to Stannis with Ghost close behind. When Jon appeared before him the King’s manner was curt and annoyed “Why have you stopped?” This time Jon did say it and remarked on the impression the two of them marching side by side would bring. Stannis scowled, “Whether you like it or not Jon Snow you need to be the first thing Robert and Lord Stark see when we arrive at parlay. You and this giant creature are the proof I need to support the truth that I say to Robert. If your vows are troubling you so much I’ll be sure to tell you and everyone who will hear it about how much and often you have defied me even after I saved you from the false king Mance Rayder.” It left Jon unconvinced, but it would serve no purpose to argue the point here. Jon wanted to see his father again, he wanted to see his uncle again, he wanted to mess up Arya’s hair, he wanted to practice at swords with robb, climb with Bran, and even spend some time with Sansa. He wanted this with all his heart, yet Jon knew that this was as far as he could go. Once the state of the realm was decided upon Jon would return to the wall. That was his place now. If there was to be battle he would take no part in it. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]With a nod of approval the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch rode with Stannis and his companions for the bridge. Apart from Massey, Horpe, Seaworth, Florent, and the red woman were riding alongside Stannis and all of them had very different looks on their faces. None of them appeared to be worried though, and that was some small reassurance. When the bridge was in plain sight Jon could see just five figures standing on it. A tall fat man with an Antler Helm who Jon could guess was Robert Baratheon. Beside him was another tall man, this one in a white cloak and golden armor. The Kingslayer, no doubt. Two men of about a height and build, one wearing the blacks of a brother and the other wearing the grays of the Starks. Uncle, Father, for a moment there were tears in Jon Snow’s eyes. My father is alive! The thought had filled Jon was a sudden sense of elation only enhanced by his uncle beside his father’s distant figure. The last man was a standard bearer bearing the sigil of House Baratheon, a crowned stag black on a yellow field. It was then that Jon heard a thunderous roar from the bridge. “STANNIS! STANNIS!” Robert Baratheon called out his brother’s name with a voice that would make lesser men tremble. Stannis gave no answer but continued towards the bridge. Robert’s figure hoisted up a two handed warhammer into the air as he called to his brother. When Jon looked at Stannis he was shocked, the man he was riding with had half a smile on his face. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]Then, as quick as it appeared, the smile was gone and a scowl appeared on his visage. Robert stopped calling Stannis’s name when they had gotten close enough to see the other side of the river. Eight hundred mounted men bearing the banners of the Dreadfort, Karhold, and the Last Hearth lay behind Robert Baratheon. Winterfell’s banners were also amongst the crowd, though Jon was less than certain any of the men across the river were Winterfell’s. No one said a word until Stannis stopped his horse and dismounted right by the front of the bridge. The rest of his followers quickly dismounted as well and followed behind their king. Jon did not dismount instead he looked at his uncle and his father. Their faces were wrapped in suspicion, Jon could tell at a glance. There was some confusion there as well. Jon should have expected as much, yet the looks they exchanged felt like a wound opening in his chest. I have no father, no uncle, only brothers and not the brothers I was born with Jon Snow said to himself. The first words were spoken by Stannis who stayed about ten paces away from Robert, though Jon wondered if that had more to do with the Kingslayer beside him. “Robert.” Stannis’s tone betrayed no feeling, he spoke as if he were speaking to someone he had just spoken with while breaking their fast. “Traitor” Robert said in response, though there was something in his tone that made it seem as if there was a question hidden somewhere in the word. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]Stannis scowled. “I’m not a traitor.” Robert looked at his brother, his crown, his banners, and back at Stannis. “I see a traitor’s crown on your head and a traitor’s banner besides it.” Stannis’s scowl grew deeper “You were dead and I was your rightful heir, it’s a crown forced upon me by all the laws of men. If you thought I was a traitor you would have tried to strike me down with that warhammer of yours.” Robert looked at the warhammer in his hand and the burst into laughter. The sudden change in mood had taken Jon by surprise. “That’s true enough” and in a single motion Robert handed off the warhammer and searched Stannis. It took only an instant for Robert to darken again, though this time in a fit of genuine wroth “You’re not my rightful heir Stannis, my boy Joffrey is. Then Tommen. Then Myrcella. I have half a mind to put the lowest baseborn brat I can find with my features in the nearest brothel, legitimize it, and put him front of you.” Stannis was grinding his teeth at that remark, Jon could tell that even from a distance. “You might believe that, but the truth of it is that they are abominations of incest.” In an instant the Kingslayer raised his voice to a roar and called Stannis a liar. His hand on his hilt, daring Robert’s younger brother to speak another word of such filthy treasons. Stannis looked at Jamie as if he were looking at a dog that had barked too loudly. With a shout and a roar Robert quieted Jamie and urged Stannis to continue.[/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]“I had sought out the help of Jon Arryn to find proof of this treason and we sought out all the harlots that took your seed. We found plenty of babes, half a dozen of them we confirmed were yours beyond a doubt. They had your hair, your eyes, and bore a strong resemblance to you. Jon Arryn found a book which had mentioned all the matches and fruits of their unions amongst the noble houses of Westeros. The Lannisters had married Baratheons half a dozen times in the past, each time the golden hair was lost in the children. Black of hair, it said. Shortly thereafter he died. Poisoned most likely, by the Queen.” Robert’s face had turned a purple-red and it appeared as though he was ready to kill something or himself. He roared, bellowed, and cursed. He then pointed a finger at Stannis and spat venomously “Where’s your proof!?” “Lost with Eddard Stark’s head and at royal decree. All the babes we found were slaughtered. Only Edric Storm and perhaps that girl you sired in the vale survived, though Edric was taken away from me by my Onion Knight.” Jamie Lannister laughed and Robert’s fury was still on him, but less. “You have nothing Stannis. Your observations might have been right, but you couldn’t have been any more wrong with the interpretation. The children may look like me, that’s true, but did you think that might have something to do with me being a twin to Cersei? We are not Targaryens.” From Stannis’s party there were calls and jeers denouncing the Kingslayer. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]Stannis said not a word but looked at Jamie darkly. Jamie, not caring for the jeers, continued onwards. “You say that not a single one of the children she bore looked like Robert, but that’s not the case. There was a miscarriage early on and the babe had Robert’s hair and features. Of four children, three took heavily after the mother. I admit that might look somewhat suspicious, but only if you didn’t have eyes.” Jamie looked towards Eddard Stark “That is unless you are arguing that Lady Catelyn was sleeping with Edmure.” All at once there were shouting and glares at one another that could kill. For a second it looked as if Eddard Stark was about to challenge Jamie Lannister. There was pushing and shoving, but almost at the same time both Robert and Stannis Baratheon called for silence and in a moment silence fell upon the bridge. The Lady Melisandre spoke then. “King Stannis is not lying and he has all the proof that he needs. Behold he is Azor Ahai and wielder of light bringer. He is the sword that will slay the darkness and wage war against the creatures of the Great Other.” Jamie Lannister laughed at that, and Robert looked as he was about to laugh as well. “Seven Hells Stannis, where did you find this one?” He did laugh after that. Wordless, Stannis lifted his scabbard and sword above his head and drew his blade. For a moment Jon Snow thought that the skies had cleared.[/FONT]
[FONT="]The North: Bran[/FONT]
Bran looked at Winterfell from the top floor of the broken tower. Over a hundred years ago the tower struck by lightning and the roof collapsing in on itself and no one had bothered rebuilding it even though it was the tallest tower in all of Winterfell. From there Bran could see the whole of Winterfell and what seemed like all of the north. It was his favorite place and the best part of that was that no one ever came to the tower except to clean out the bottom floors, far away from Bran. The only company Bran kept was the crows, who constantly called out “Corn!” in their high pitched shrieks. Bran had given the crows corn the last time he had climbed, but that was a long time ago back before the King went north. Bran had wanted to climb up here before, but ever since the skies turned there were heavy rains keeping Bran inside and bored out of his wits. On the days when it wasn’t raining Bran had tried to climb but found that the rocks were slick with moisture and he couldn’t get a good hold on them. That had kept Bran away for a few days, but Bran couldn’t take it anymore and climbed right out of his bedroom window. As he went up Bran managed to find his proper footing, but on his way back down his bottom leg slipped and Bran fell from two stories up right into mud and muck. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]Since then Bran had not climbed. At least, until today. If truth be told Bran could not take it anymore. Ever since Joffrey had attacked his sister Arya the entire castle was on edge. There were suspicious glances everywhere and calls for blood. Bran had been with Tommen when Arya had been attacked, practicing with wooden swords and padded so much neither could move if they fell. He had been winning when Jon Snow shouted for Robb to come and that Arya was in danger. After hearing that Bran had tried to run to go to Arya but he fell flat on his face and was once again covered in the mix of rain water and earthen clay. By the time Bran had finally been able to go to Arya everything had already ended. Tommen was being carried off by one of the King’s followers and in an instant it seemed like the world had turned upside down. After a few days Tommen and Myrcella were allowed to go outside and Bran had been forced to be with Tommen for as long as he was not with his mother or imp, his uncle. That struck him as unfair, but when he tried to say so he only got angry dismissals from Robb stating that Arya was being forced to stay with Myrcella as they did needlework and that if Bran wanted to be rid of Tommen so badly he could stitch with the princess. Bran had wrinkled his face on that and said no. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]But Bran didn’t know just how long he would have to be with Tommen. It’s been almost five days and it seemed as though Bran was forced to spend every minute with Tommen. The prince might have been nearly as old as him, but where Bran was nearly a man grown the prince was such a child. The boy would do nearly anything asked of him but if left to his own devices he would he would draw in the mud with a stick and would sulk or follow him around when he grew bored with that. Bran had tried to teach him how to climb, but after he fell down from a tree a couple times he refused to go any higher. At least he wasn’t afraid of the direwolf pups anymore. After hearing about Joffrey being attacked he was terrified of them, but after Bran held the pup up to Tommen and allowed him to pet the direwolf Tommen soon fell in love with it. Sometimes it nearly drove Bran mad at how Tommen acted with Summer. He even gave the direwolf that name after hearing that the complete disappearance of the late summer snows meant the long summer might have come. Bran thought the name was stupid at first, but eventually it seemed as though the name couldn’t have been better. There were a lot of things about the boy prince that bothered Bran, but sometimes Bran almost thought him a friend. Never Joffrey though.[/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]Somewhere in the distance Bran heard a direwolf howl. Grey Wind, Bran thought immediately. Bran had been learning to tell the howls apart from one another. If you listened close enough you could tell the difference between their voices. Bran couldn’t do that with Dogs. Some dogs sounded differently than others, but once you heard enough of them they started to sound the same. Not with direwolves. Ever since Nymeria and Ghost were slashed by the prince the direwolves had started howling for them. It was not all at once, nor all the time, but whenever the winds changed or the moon was out they would howl and it would seem like their two siblings would get a little stronger. Lady was with Nymeria all the time now, constantly licking Nymeria’s furs and bandages. Lady had been inseparable from Sansa, but after Lady had bit Joffrey Sansa had abandoned her direwolf saying that it was dangerous. Bran thought that was stupid, Sansa loved her direwolf and she knew that direwolves are large apex predators that hunt in packs and tear down prey, that didn’t stop her before. Mother had forbidden Sansa from seeing Joffrey, but Bran didn’t know why. Robb, Jon, or even Bran himself would start a fight with Joffrey and beat him for hurting Arya, but it didn’t feel the same as the words Mother gave to the three of them. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]Robb thinks father will take Joffrey’s head, but when Bran asked his mother and Jory about it they said that was up to Eddard Stark or the king. Maester Luwin sent a raven to Last Hearth the very night it happened, but his father was in the field fighting Stannis and would not be back for a long time. When Bran thought about that he remembered the man from the Night’s Watch who was beheaded for desertion. That was the last time he rode out with his father and it was the day Bran got his pups. Ghost had been the runt of the litter, an albino with white fur and red eyes. Theon had said that pup would be the first to die before he went north with my father, but I don’t think even Theon would have imagined that Joffrey would play the part of a butcher. The thought of that made Bran angry so he threw a loose stone at the part of the castle where Joffrey is being held. With any luck Joffrey would get hit in the head with it and then he would be dying. Jon had thought the color of Ghost cemented that they were supposed to have them. The white and red of the weirwood trees. The weirwood trees had always scared Bran though. Trees ought not to have faces or leaves like hands, Bran had always said. The mere thought of it sent a shiver down his spine, but he had learned something else that day. Lord Eddard Stark, Master of Winterfell, was of the first men and followed the old ways. The man who passes judgment should be the man who wields the sword. [/FONT]
[FONT="]The North: Arya II[/FONT]
[/FONT][FONT="]Arya did not want Ghost to die. Ghost may have been the runt of the litter once, but the albino direwolf had grown faster and stronger than his siblings. Arya liked the way Ghost would lick and tickle her whenever she reached down to pet him. She hated Joffrey for what he did not Nymeria, but she hated him for what he did to Ghost. Sometimes Arya would find herself dreaming about breaking Joffrey’s leg and cutting him with a sword. One time she had made the mistake of saying so out loud to Sansa when they were knitting within earshot of Septa Mordane. The Septa had said that while Joffrey had wronged her it was no place for any southern Lady to make such threats or have such dark thoughts. It would be up to her lord father whether or not Joffrey should be punished, and that punishment will be decided with the King for Joffrey was sired by him. Arya had said not another word that day, but she had seethed with anger all throughout the day until at one point she had taken a stick and beat it against the walls of a keep until there was nothing but splinters left and a broken hilt. One day she tried to practice with Mycah, but the Butcher’s Boy had refused to play with her anymore. The Butcher had forbidden it and threatened to beat him if he ever played with him again, that his father was afraid that had things turned out differently the butcher’s boy might have been killed. Arya didn’t believe it and was hurt when Mycah had said that, but she only shouted at him and ran away.[/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]That was not the worst of it though, Myrcella was forced on her as well. Myrcella was the last person in the world that Arya would have wanted to be with. She was the very image of the Southern Lady, the very image of Sansa’s dreams and songs. Arya would never forgive Myrcella for that. In a few days Arya had learned to hate those things about her, but found other things about Myrcella that she could tolerate. Still Arya couldn’t stand how much the Septa had praised Myrcella’s stitches even though they were only slightly better than her own. The Septa’s praise had faded recently, but even then the Septa never criticized her as much as she did with Arya herself. She was sick of all of it. Arya had ran more than once from Myrcella, rushing past Ser Meryn Trant and a few of the Tallhart men. A couple of times one almost grabbed her, but Arya was far too quick for them. The Septa had not been upset with her the first time, which had shocked Arya, but afterwards she was stern with her and that made it that much easier to run. All of the men had promised to protector, promised to defend her. Yet when Joffrey attacked her only Jon had rushed to defend her, only Nymeria and Ghost. Sansa did nothing. Half of Winterfell did nothing. In the end it had been the imp who saved her and put an end to it all. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]When she ran on this day Arya felt especially angry. For the first time in more than a month part of the sky had opened up and Arya could see blue. The sun, however, was still hidden and the blue was swallowed up after a few moments. Arya had missed the sun, missed the stars, and even missed the cold. The sun might not have been her own, it moved funny and its coloring was different in a way that Arya couldn’t describe with words, but it had shined all the same. Without it the world seemed gray and grayer, as if something was lost from the world. It had not mattered so much when she had friends and people to talk to, but now talking to them only made her angry. Almost every single one of them said that they wanted to avenge her and take action against the prince, but none of them would do anything because mother had forbidden it. All at once she wanted to scream, she wanted to cry, and she wanted revenge. She wanted… her father. Arya ran to the Godswood alone, as she often went, and cried there where no one could see. She cursed and yelled too, but always restrained herself so no one could hear. The last thing she needed today was to help the Tallhart men find her. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]“What’s wrong?” asked a sweet and soft voice from somewhere within the Godswood. Arya looked up wanting to see her father or Jon. She could always tell either of them about her fears, her pains. She trusted both of them implicitly. Instead when she looked up she saw plump little tommen dressed in Lannister colors. Arya had come here to be alone, to escape Joffrey’s stupid little sister. She was not happy to see Tommen there, and even angrier at herself for crying where he could see. Angrily she rubbed away her tears and was about to shout at him when a wolf pup started licking her hand. Startled Arya looked to find Summer by her side and to see that Tommen had gotten closer. Some of Arya’s anger disappeared then, but she still wanted to know what Tommen was doing here. “Shouldn’t you be with Bran or the Queen?” Tommen seemed to smile at that. “I am with Bran it’s just that he wanted to climb. I can’t climb, my hands are a bit too uncertain to grab ahold of all the branches and crevices I need to. I am scared of heights too, your brother is so brave.” Arya chuckled at that. Tommen was too plump to climb if truth be told. His stomach kept him from hugging the trees too closely and his hands were not firm enough to get a good grip. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]“See you’re doing better now. My uncle always says it’s good to laugh every now and then otherwise we might get too solemn and turn into a statue. A jape most like, but it never hurts to laugh.” Tommen smiled a stupid child-like smile that made it almost impossible for Arya not to smile with him, almost. “That still doesn’t tell me why you’re here all alone.” Tommen looked at the direwolf. “I’m not alone, I’m with Summer. Bran told me to look after him while he climbed the trees. I used to be scared of direwolves, but I like Summer. Bran said that we’d be safe here.” Ary looked for Bran and couldn't find him. Then she looked at Summer, rubbed behind his ears, and the direwolf licked her in return. “Don’t tell my mother that you saw me here” Tommen began “she would never let me go outside if she did. Mother thinks I’m off taking a lesson from the old Maester with some red cloaks protecting me.” Arya was thinking how Tommen had tricked the Queen. It struck her as odd that Tommen would be anywhere without a Lannister guard. Myrcella could never be seen without a pair of them and sometimes with Ser Meryn. When Tommen asked again a little more urgently Arya looked at him and smiled for the first time today. “I will, but only if you practice at swords with me.” Tommen returned the smile and nodded in a way that only a boy of seven could. [/FONT]
[FONT="]The North: Eddard III[/FONT]
[/FONT][FONT="]There was a long pause as King Stannis spoke. His jaw was clenched in the beginning, but as he spoke Ned Stark thought he felt more weariness from him than anything else. Lord Stannis is a man who was a slave to duty, this was something he knew all too well. If Stannis wanted to rebel he could have done so before many times, yet he only grit his teeth and followed the commands Robert gave him. Take the slights meant to shame him. Even to this day Ned did not know why Robert had done those things. Ned looked at his friend, his king, and saw something in his eyes that wasn’t often there. There was some shame there. Robert had planned on capturing Stannis with the mounted men behind him after hearing his brother’s excuses for rebelling after deciding on a time to end the parlay’s truce. A victory without bloodshed had been something that he had hoped for, but Robert had been certain that it would come to blood. The Kingslayer made certain of that as well. The oathbreaker was not shamed by Stannis’s speech, nor was he even that interested in it. There was a perplexing look on his face, most likely musing about the sword. It had given him pause, Ned thought. “Stannis, you say the crown is mine if I want it. Prove it or to the seven hells with you.” Stannis looked at Robert with a mounting scowl, but after a moment he raised his to his head and lifted the crown. Behind him all of his followers took the knee and begged him to keep it. The red woman and ser Axell Florent were particularly dismayed. “You are the one true king!” Melisandre declared with ser Axell eagerly agreeing with her. Stannis’s frown grew deeper.[/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]“Be quiet, all of you. This is my duty, you will do your duty and obey. I am no king, not any more.” His followers had grown deaf to him, only ser Massey and the Onion Knight had kept their peace and frowned in silence. Stannis threw the crown at Robert and reminded all of the men on that bridge of something they had half-forgotten when the sun had appeared on that bridge. “Here’s my crown Robert, I am a king no more and will return to the Nightfort. There are creatures in the dark, monsters and worse things. I mean to make that my seat for me and my daughter after. Your abominations will have no claim to it and if you die without a trueborn son I’ll return to reclaim that crown and take yours.” Any sense of shame Robert might have had disappeared in an instant. In its place wroth rose in him like a caged beast and he roared at Stannis. After shouting a few curses at his younger brother something coherent emerged from Robert’s mouth “You will stop these treasons Stannis, the children are of my own blood. I have heard your ‘proof’ and call it false! You might believe such nonsense, but it is cruel and self-serving.” It was a wonder Stannis had any teeth left. His face had darkened and his jaw was clenched. Even from where Eddard was standing could the sound of his teeth grinding against one another be heard. “I know them to be abominations and you will see their nature soon enough. The boy Tommen is kindly and Myrcella is not without some charm, I would not suffer them under my roof but they can crawl under whatever rock they choose to so long as they stay away from my crown. Joffrey is a monster though, a beater, fond of rape, and a cold murderer. There will be a thousand cats before his reign would end unless I ended it for him.”[/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]Robert’s face purpled, Jamie’s face reddened, and jeers were coming from either side demanding action. Stannis’s head, Stannis’s tongue, the Kingslayer’s head, Joffrey’s head. The mob of companions, many of them high born, had a bloodlust on them. Jamie had drawn his blade and shouted “Treason! He means to kill the Prince!” This parlay had gone horribly wrong, and Ned shouted to be heard and demanded quiet. None came. Robert’s bellow, a fierce thing that could have been heard ten leagues away, finally silenced everything. Still purple Robert looked at his brother with murder in his eyes “Go!” he spat “Go back the wall and freeze in that hellish wasteland. If you ever come back I’ll kill you. Go before I forget we’re kin.” His voice was surprisingly quiet and Stannis shockingly compliant. Even as his men still called for action, Stannis merely turned after giving a curt nod and he walked back to his destier. When Axell Florent called him king Stannis soured notably and gave Florent a gaze that made him cower long before he spoke. “I am not a King anymore Axell, do not make me say it thrice. Go back to Selyse and tell her that she is a Lady once more. I will have no more of this mummer’s farce.” A few shouts were given to the giant that came with them and they slowly departed with heated words and chilled intents. Eddard still could not believe that there were giants, the creature had not even seemed real when it first appeared. In a few moments all but one rider had left. “Lord Stark may I have a word with you?” a young man called out mounted atop a horse dressed in black. Jon. Stark stared suspiciously, but inside he was confused and torn apart. If half of what he had heard was true then Jon had sold half the wall and turned his cloak. “Uncle I’ll need a word with you as well. Afterwards I must speak to the King. There are things you must know.”[/FONT]
[FONT="]The Wall: Jon III[/FONT]
[/FONT][FONT="]Eddard Stark broke the silence. Jon could not tell anything from his tone, it had been too long since he had seen his lord father and he had never heard this kind of tone from him, at least not towards Jon. “I did. First I would like to ask what you know about the troubles we have been through. This might be awkward for you father and I am more than well aware of the tales told about me, but this is something that must be clarified before I return to the well so tell it all and tell it true.” The voice Lord Stark spoke in response was something Jon was familiar with. It was the lord’s voice he used both in judgment of others and in treating with other lords. Jon looked into his father’s cool grey eyes and Jon suddenly had a thought occur to him. Is he judging me as he does the men he beheads or does he treat me as he would the likes of Tywin Lannister or Mace Tyrell? No, I’d rather not know. When his father had started to pause in order to remember smaller details that did not come to mind Jon thought that he had heard most of what Stark knew. Half-truths at best, most of them could leave me hanged and my uncle will be the one to tie the knots. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]“If there is more you may bring it up after hearing the whole truths. Benjen” Jon turned to look at Lord Stark’s black and silent shadow “A few days after I arrived at the Wall you went out ranging and disappeared. Some days later two of your companions were found near the grove of weirwood trees where I swore my vows and became Mormont’s personal steward. They were dead, but had not rotted and did not smell. The old bear brought them back to the castle, but in the night they had risen with eyes turned a pale blue and they felt no pain from steel. Fire killed them, after they nearly killed me. I would be dead if not for Ghost. For some reason the Lord Commander bestowed upon me a great honor: Long Claw.” Jon reached for the sword at his hilt and unsheathed it in a slow and nonthreatening manner and handed it over to Benjen to examine. “You are likely dead. Whether you were burned or risen as a servant of an Other I cannot say. If you do not believe me your sworn brothers will testify to its truth, at least the ones who were there.” Benjen and his father had only sharp suspicions when Jon mentioned his disappearance and later resurrection, to the point where they believed that he had become a liar and a mummer. It was the Valyrian steel sword that was the ancestral treasure of House Mormont that would support his story, but only so far. Perhaps they think I might have looted it from Mormont’s corpse after I joined the Wildlings. No, Jon couldn’t think of that. Whatever they might have been told this was his Uncle and his Lord Father. They knew him better than that.[/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]“How did the Lord Commander die?” His father asked, not unkindly but still lacking much in the way of warmth. “That I do not know. I was not with the Lord Commander, by then I was traveling with Styr to climb over the Wall.” Jon paused a moment to let that sentence sink in, looks of confusion and then anger flashed and faded before he continued. “But from what I heard and what Edd will attest to is that he was slain by his own brothers on his way back to the Wall after his host was shattered and routed by Whites and Others. Craster was slain and our brothers turned to raping his daughter-wives. Likely Craster’s line is reduced to but two. A granddaughter or great granddaughter and their son who currently reside at the Wall. So far none of those that slew the old bear had returned to the wall, likely knowing their lives are forfeit.” “Seven Hells” Eddard cursed, sounding more like the father Jon knew. Benjen, however, started to flush with anger. Still holding Long Claw he went off to talk with his brothers. That can’t be helped. Let him talk and let him see, perhaps his brothers will be more convincing than the boy he knew.[/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]“You have heard I am an oath breaker I trust” Jon spoke, more softly this time with shame starting to fill him. Shame, guilt, and remorse; those are the emotions that flew through Jon unbidden. Eddard seemed only now to recognize that Jon was still his son, though there was pain in those grey eyes even if his face was still as frozen as carved from ice and stone. “Yes” a pause “is it true?” Jon looked at his father and could almost feel a rush of tears, almost. Kill the boy Jon, kill the boy and let the man be born! Jon remembered Maester Aemon’s words. “Yes, but in ways that you might not understand. While I was out with the Lord Commander the second in command of the Shadow Tower, Qhorin Halfhand requested me to serve alongside him as a scout. It might have been my Stark blood, it might have been Ghost, whatever the reason I went with him and would have died with him. That was before we learned of giants, mammoths, wargs, and a hundred thousand strong host heading south to go through the Wall. After that Qhorin said I must return to the Wall, that I must tell them what I have learned, and that I had to go over to them and that I must not balk of whatever is asked of me. I asked him to tell the Lord Commander that I was no turncloak before I realized that Qhorin was going to die, but Qhorin promised me that he would.”[/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]Jon’s voice was low and pained, Jon had not thought it would be this difficult. It had not been when he had spoken of this to the armorer or the maester. They were not your father, and you had only spoken in response a voice from within told him. “There was a wildling woman that I had spared a fortnight before that day though. I had not thought that I would have to kill a woman, so I asked if she would yield when I had her at the point of my sword. She yielded, but I could not kill her when it was asked of me. I had remembered your words and I could feel that there was no evil in her, no desire to do me any harm, and she was stripped of her weapons and her comrades. It would not have been honorable to kill her, and after hearing her words I could not swing my sword. When me and the halfhand were cornered the woman was there on the other side facing me, and she vouched for me to go over to the other side. Before I even could respond the halfhand had called me a traitor and pointed steel at me. It was my chance to go over to them and I did not balk. Only…” another pause, and by now he could tell that there were others listening. “Only when I was about to move over Rattleshirt called me a crow and demanded that I prove my worth and my loyalty. I did not want to, but before I even knew it I was fighting with the halfhand. Qhorin was ten times the man I was and he could have slew me easily, but he did not and left openings. I did not balk.” By then Benjen had been drawn by Jon’s continued speech and he paled at hearing that remark. “That’s enough Jon, you don’t need to say more.” Lord Stark had dropped all pretense of being a Lord. He was his father again. “No, that is not even a tenth of what I must tell you.”[/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]Benjen searched his nephew and Jon felt as guilty as if he had pillaged the Lord Commander’s corpse. “After I turned over to the wildlings I met with Mance Rayder and from there I learned that there was a threat that far surpassed anything a wildling could possibly pose. You have seen the Giant my lord, you will see a mammoth, and wargs are realer than you think. The sixskins seemed to believe that I am a warg, and if I am a warg then all your children are wargs as well.” Jon wondered how his father would take that and quickly added “I do not feel as though I am a warg. I’ve never changed my skin, I’ve only had a dream. Ghost is loyal to me, protective of me, in ways I cannot understand. Just as the direwolves are loyal to your children. They will fight and die for any of your six” if there is another me there “Do not kill them or separate them. You killed Lady on the road south and I heard that Theon Turncloak either butchered or imprisoned Bran and Rickon’s wolves before they were murdered.” Were they? Did I dream of Bran’s wolf? Benjen and his father eyed Ghost suspiciously, for some reason they were not surprised to hear of Theon Turncloak. They’ve heard the tales, but they might not believe them. Yet there was an anger building in his father and Jon realized that Theon might be in Winterfell or he might have traveled north. What would he have to say about all this? As much as Roose Bolton or Ramsay Snow. “I think I’ve heard enough for today Jon” Lord Stark responded, “You have said a lot that I must think on.” Jon looked as his father. “Not nearly enough I’m afraid. You should know that Mance Rayder was south of the Wall and is most likely making his way beyond the wall as we speak. Perhaps me and my men should return with you to your camp. There is much and more to tell you and time is growing short.”[/FONT]
[FONT="]The North: Tyrion: II[/FONT]
[/FONT][FONT="]With his eyes straining Tyrion closed the book in front of him. House Arryn dealt with men who assaulted their family by throwing them off the mountain or leaving them to rot until they decide to jump. If a hand was laid upon a Targaryen, that man would be lucky to only lose the hand. The Starks resorted to trials by combat most of the time, with a Stark claiming the head of the assailant or there being a blood feud for a few generations. There was a Bolton that tried to force himself upon a Stark and take her for a bride, that ended predictably in blood stopped only by a horrific winter and the death of most of that Bolton’s line. Would the Leechlord be so blind as to allow his son to do the same with Lady Hornwood? Tyrion knew history often repeated itself, but it was a good thing that most of the tales coming back from the north are too ridiculous to believe. That way the more fantastic truths will become as unbelievable as the fairy tales of Whites, Gaints, Skinchangers, Theon’s sack of Winterfell, Walder Frey violating every law of gods and men setting the entire world against him, and Ramsay Snow. Somehow when Tyrion listed them he felt a chill and wondered if the later three could actually happen. That Tyrion listed them alike in madness made Tyrion remember something that his wet nurse said. Grumpkins and Snarks, utter nonsense. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]The Riverlands tome was even less helpful than the others. The Ironborn had their version of justice in the land, as did the Storm Kings for a time. The Blackwoods and the Brackens solved their problems in a pattern of brutal rivalry and compassionate reconciliations. One century a Bracken would be let off easily and simply be forbidden from ever going across the river, the next the Bracken and most of his associates would be hanged on that dead weirwood tree and have ravens eat their eyes and strip the flesh from their bones. A Bracken then poisoned the tree as revenge leaving it dead, but the ghostly tree still stood and dozens of Brackens. The Blackwoods had an exceptionally clever name for their keep where they ekpt the weirwood… what was it? A pause Raventree! How clever the first men are. Last Hearth, Last River, Long Lake, Bear Island, Bay of Seals, all exceptionally clever names. Wouldn’t surprise me if they named Giants Giants. Tyrion’s chuckle woke the Septon who was sleeping with his neck craned backward against the chair. Tyrion thought that he would be uncomfortable when he awoke and he did. With the Septon rubbing his neck anxiously Tyrion pushed the tome to him and thanked him for allowing him to read it. Not that it wasn’t the duty owed to him as the Queen’s sister, but a little courtesy never hurt.[/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]When Tyrion finally emerged into the daylight there was sun in the sky and the clouds had mostly dissipated. The ground was still muddy and wet, but it was a small favor for the day that Tyrion did not overlook. Tyrion had long since switched over to the cheap, but surprisingly comfortable and warm leather boots that the northmen wore after the first fortnight had ruined his fine footwear. Tyrion was making his way over to the Red Wing of the Castle, also known as the Queen’s Wing, the Lion’s Den, and the Prince’s Prison. Tyrion thought again about the clever names that were given to it and was about to make another internal jape at the first men when he remembered that all but one of them were created by the Queen’s own guards from the south. I suppose there’s no reason to believe that the Andals are any more clever. The Lannister Guards stood side by side with Northmen. In a sense tensions had been eased these past few days, but Tyrion would have to be a fool to think that the problem was forgotten. “Where are my nephews and niece?” Tyrion asked, trying his best to sound as if he had more than twelve hours sleep across five days. He always asked that question when he was out for the night. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]“Princess Myrcella is inside my lord, Prince Tommen is with Lord Brandon, and Prince Joffrey remains within.” As good an answer as Tyrion could have hoped. It was unlikely that Myrcella would ever get the Stark girl to like her, but the closer Tommen got with Brandon the safer they’ll both be. “I take it the prince is playing in the Godswood again?” The guard seemed to think for a moment and said “I cannot speak to any certainty, but that would be my guess. Wherever ser Meryn is you will find the Prince.” Tyrion considered that a moment and turned to ask one of the other guards to go check on his nephew and to make certain that his greatest care in the world will be how much fun he will have and his greatest fear about being forced to learn sums or history from Maester Luwin. Tyrion had come to admire the old Maester, not in the least for his learning of the higher arts and that valyrian steel forge in his chain. Tyrion knew more about Dragons than him, but he found himself learning more often than not whenever the conversation drifted from Dragons to other studies. “I take it my sister is within?” “Aye my lord, she was breaking her fast with Prince Joffrey a short time ago.” With a nod Tyrion walked past the guards and entered into the Lion’s Den. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]As Tyrion waddled down the hallway he was relieved to be out of the mud, but there was something about a hard stone floor that made each step feel a little more real and his legs began to cramp from the quick transition and from sitting in an uncushioned chair for more than half the night. When a serving woman Tyrion recognized from the Kitchen’s walked by he called to her to make some bacon burnt black and some bread and butter. With a “yes m’lord” she was off. The hall that his sister converted into a dining hall was reasonably large enough to fit half the people guarding them and more than enough to fit their guards and themselves. Myrcella was not present, but his sister and Joffrey were. Before Tyrion had even sat down his sister was upon him with questions. “What have you found?” Tyrion lifted his cramped leg over the bench and massaged his thighs. “I’ve learned that if you are going to stay up all night in a chair you better bring a pillow.” Cersei frowned, not unprettily though there was nothing pretty about the unhappiness in her green eyes. “There’s some precedent that will allow Joffrey to walk away from this without him taking the black or having trials. He must leave and never return to Winterfell.” Cersei wasn’t appeased. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]“You told us this yesterday and the day before, certainly there must be more.” Oh my sweet sister there is much and more, but of the things we might like… “Little and less Cersei, your son put us in a dangerous position. If we had the Rock or even King’s Landing matters would be different but we have to appease and appease. If you have to get on your knees and beg for your son’s life that is what you must do. Until we hear more from the front I must learn all I can about these trials. The one real hope that we have is that Joffrey is a prince and heir to the Iron Throne, if he was a Bolton, an Umber, or a Ryswell his head would be mounted on a spike. Being banished from Winterfell is not as bad as it seems. He need only confess, show genuine remorse, and swear a vow upon a heart tree or a in a sept.” Tyrion had sounded convincing and Cersei grew less bitter, but Tyrion wondered if Joffrey could ever show genuine remorse. Sometimes a mummers tears can pass for genuine. Tyrion looked at his nephew. The arrogant boy who threatened to lop off his head now seemed sullen. Two dark purple welts were about his face and many more where Tyrion could not see. I suppose I did ask for this when I told her he would die unless she fixed him, but can you beat evil out of a monster? Without caring to know the answer Tyrion waited half asleep for his bacon. [/FONT]
[FONT="]The North: Theon[/FONT]
It had been two days since the King and Lord Stark returned from the Last River and since then it appeared as though more than half of the strength gathering just below the river had been sent away. With them a great many of the camp followers left, but a smaller portion leaving even more women open to Theon. Theon Greyjoy was not a man accustomed to taking other men’s leavings, but the damp cold gray that predominated the daylight hours was enough to encourage him to take his pleasures wherever he could find it. Apart from the increasingly familiar faces of those that warmed the tents of many a Umber or Dreadfort men, it seemed as though much of the gambling and games have disappeared as well. That was less surprisingly to Theon, however. There had been a limited amount of coin spread around the camp and most of them had been utter fools at dice and other games, leaving the better part of the wealth of the camp in the hands of a few smart betters and a great many more cheaters just good enough not to get caught. Theon had made some silver on the bets, leaving much of the copper pieces for others to fight over. He was a Greyjoy, the son and heir to Pyke. It was, put simply, beneath his station to fight over coppers. That didn’t stop Theon from watching others fight over it, however. Some of the highlights of his days had been watching half-drunk men at arms curse and cheat one another over handful of copper pieces. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]If it was just the increasing lack of entertainment that plagued Theon then things would be different, but instead he had been cursed with the black crows that came over to their camp. They shunned the Dreadfort men and muttered curses about them often enough to make Theon think that there was some bitter blood between them, but Theon could not for the life of him remember any battles or notable skirmishes between the Night’s Watch and the Dreadfort. The Dreadfort was near as far away as Winterfell, which made it seem impossible. When tales started spreading to Theon by way of the Umber men Theon almost laughed at the next black brother. It was as if each and every one of them believed in all the stories Old Nan had to say about the Dreadfort. Theon knew he was no fool, the Boltons may have kept some of the older ways of the north and there were always whispers about Ramsay Snow, but this was different. Utter madness, they’d have to be mad to believe that nonsense. That alone was worth a good jape or two and that brightened his day up until he tried to confront Jon Snow. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]Theon could scarcely believe his eyes the first time that he saw Jon in the faded blacks of the Night’s Watch. For the first few moments he saw him he had believed that Jon had raced up to the wall, swore an oath, and raced back down. That in itself was complete madness as Theon and the Stark men had all but killed their horses on the way here in the mud, rain, and gray. When he went up to get a closer look he realized that Jon Snow was older, taller, and colder. Jon Snow had always been a sullen boy, jealous of Theon and quick to sense a slight, but this had been much worse. It was if what little warmth the boy had in his dark grey eyes had been ripped out of him. The glares were worse though Theon mused, that should have been my first clue. It was only after Theon had been hearing tales that he was a turncloak, a kinslayer, and a murderer of children that Theon’s fury welled up inside him to the point of bursting. He nearly killed the first man he heard muttering “Theon Turncloak” behind his back after that and decided he must have an end to it then and there. Red faced he entered Jon’s tent and found him with his lackwit squire and a much larger man with the wits of a fish. Jon was cold and contemptuous, his eyes seeming to daggers hacking away at his neck. Theon could not hold it in anymore “I am no Turncloak! I am not a Kinslayer! I would never lay a finger on Bran or Rickon!” The words came out twisted with anger. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]Jon had seemed to stare into his soul when he looked at him and the icy glare that he gave Theon had been intimidating, more than he would ever admit. “No, I suppose not. The Theon that butchered my brothers, betrayed Robb and the North, and led a host of Iron men upon the Winterfell that slaughtered everyone to a man and burned it as you fled died some time ago. You were flayed for it. I heard that you begged for death and died screaming.” Theon reached for a dagger and spat venomously that he would have that liar’s tongue out. Theon never saw the big man. Before he knew it he was lifted from his feet and slammed into the muddy earth. His blade was wrenched from his side, only half drawn, and put up to his chin. For a moment Theon thought he was going to die and began to struggle furiously to get free and kill the man that pinned him. Instead he heard Jon Snow speak with much less disgust “Emmett enough, it will not due to kill my father’s ward. Even creatures like him can be used on the Wall. Cotter Pyke might take a liking to him.” Theon was hurling curses and abuse at Jon Snow, half goading him. Instead what he received was worse. There was a look of utter disgust in Jon Snow’s eyes as Theon was screaming and making threats. Theon didn’t notice when Jon’s face changed, but in an instant Theon stopped as he looked into Jon’s eyes again. This time there was sadness. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]“Why did you kill my brothers Theon? They were only boys. I didn’t believe it at first. I didn’t believe you were a monster such as that. The whole of the realm could not be lying though, and when you were styling yourself the Prince of Winterfell for all the world to see I realized that the Theon I had thought I knew was a lie.” There was something in Jon Snow’s voice that made Theon turn and Theon could never have been half so ashamed and horrified. He believes that the tale is true. The realization had hit Theon hard and low when Theon was taken from the tent and escorted to Eddard Stark’s tent. He had been a ghostly pale white when he met with the man who took him as a ward ten years ago. After criticisms rebukes and punishments washed over him Theon could only mutter a weak reply to the point where one of the people in the tent with the two of them asked if he had been stabbed or hurt in some way. Theon could only look up and see that Stark’s eyes were also cold and critical. For a moment it was as though Theon would weep, but he was Ironborn and Iron Men do not weep. Instead he only asked a question, one that must have seemed imbued with a sense of desperation. “Is it true?” Stark did not answer him and Theon almost broke down again “I would not kill them. I would not kill them!” Yet even as the words went through his lips a small voice deep within Theon began speaking. Not unless I had no choice.[/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]The next day Theon spent nearly its entirety in a daze and beaten though no lasting physical harm had come to him. His outburst the night before had spread quickly throughout the camp, though there was probably not a one that had not heard him shouting. The familiar faces of women spurned his advances, coupling with lesser men. The gambling pits and dens seemed closed to Theon with suspicious glares and angry rejections hurled in his direction when he approached. Umber men who Theon found to be great drinking partners as they regaled him with stories of fights and beddings wanted nothing to do with him. Only the Bolton men and some Karstark men had paid him any mind and that had made it worse. It made the lie feel truer. The Japes that had once seemed so funny turned to ashes in his mouth. Like Winterfell the thought came bitter and unwanted into Theon’s head, but it stayed there all the same. It was twisting inside of him to the point where Theon was planning on leaving the camp and asking leave from Stark to return south when half dozen riders came up from the east. Now what? Theon had been one of the first to meet the riders. “Has Stannis attacked?” One of the soldiers nearest to him had asked. “No” The answer was curt and rough “We must have word with the King and Lord Stark, there has been a raven from Winterfell.” The words left ash in Theon's mouth for a second time as he could almost see Bran and Rickon's heads mounted on the castle gates.[/FONT]
[FONT="]The Wall: Samwell[/FONT]
[/FONT][FONT="]When the Ravens were attended to, the letters sorted by order of which to bring to the Lord Commander, and with dawn dispelling the last vestiges the night sky Samwell had finished more than half of the work he needed to accomplish in the small hours of the morning. “Is there anything else I can do for you Maester Aemon?” The old Maester used to frighten Sam, but after getting used to him he realized that he was a good and kindly man though he would deny it when the word was used to compliment him. The Maester’s voice was weak but had an underlying strength to it “Perhaps something to break my fast Sam, after that you may go to Bowen Marsh and Othell Yarwyck and inform them of the latest news from the south.” Sam returned with some eggs, drink, and hard bread. The Maester gave a nod when the food was put in front of him, though he did not see. Instead he began speaking almost absentmindedly “The Sun will show itself today, though I do not know for how long. I feel its warmth building and the moistness receding.” Sam did not know what to say to that, so instead he said “That is good to hear Maester, the men were growing restless about the constant rains and the wet that lingered on.” Something flashed in the Maester’s face “is it?” This time Sam kept his silence, the old man was wise perhaps even beyond his years if such a thing was possible. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]“It has been decades since I have ever felt such warmth this far north sustained over a month. That this had happened at the precipice of winter is without precedent. Even if we assume the weather has returned to what it was when King Robert travelled north it is still too warm. There should be summer snows; instead we had near unending rains drifting from downpour and spittle.” A long pause held in the air “the cold preserves us here Sam.” Sam said nothing in response to those words for he had nothing to say. The Maester did not pry a response from him and after a few moments of further silence Sam departed. He made parting words with Clydas as he left the Maester’s dwelling. Outside Castle Black had still lingered in darkness by the long shadow of the Wall, but off in the distance Sam could see that the clouds had parted and the sun was rising. Sam looked to find Grenn or Pyp somewhere in the yards, but it seemed as though they were nowhere to be found. He had not seen them when he went to the Dining Hall, but perhaps he had just not seen them there. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]The First Steward and the First Builder were the highest ranking brothers in the Night’s Watch alongside the First Ranger under the Lord Commander. Jon wasn’t here, however. He was down south with over a dozen of his black brothers. He was not frightened of that though, not anymore. When Sam first heard that Jon was heading south with Stannis Baratheon Sam had paled at that. Jon could not possibly have known way was going on south of the wall nor could he know the implications of riding with King Stannis. “The Night’s Watch plays no part in the quarrels of the realm.” Sam had said to Jon, too much by reflex to have a stammer but after Jon made it clear that he was adamant in going south Sam had stammered then and the boy who was his first true friend got angry with him and reminded him of all the reasons why Jon had ordered Sam to leave and go to Old Town with the Maester and Gilly’s baby, only then telling Sam that it was meant to be Mance’s child not Gilly’s that was to travel south. Samwell Tarly could not believe Jon’s words and gaped at him until he left, and gaped long after half in a daze. Perhaps I should… should meet up and talk to Gilly and Val. Everyone had taken to calling Val a Princess of the Wildlings, but Sam knew better though he had been swept up in the craze when it was first mentioned. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]As Sam marched on remembering he slipped and fell to his knees in the mud that covered the yard. A yelp came from Sam’s throat before he could beat it down. The fall had hurt, but it had not hurt so badly as to leave him helpless in the mud and muck. For the fifth time Sam thought That’s queer, I never used to fall this much. Sam had thought something might have been wrong with him the third time it happened and told Maester Aemon such, but the old Maester chuckled warmly and said “Members of the Night’s Watch know the perils of slick ice all too well, but often times we forget that slick earth and stone carry the similar perils.” Mud and wetness streaked Sam from the top of his britches to his feet as he struggled to his feet. Queen’s Men were laughing on the other side of the courtyard and one of them called out “Slayer!” Sam did his best to put that out of his mind when he noticed that Bowen Marsh was in the yard arguing with someone. Sam blinked got onto his feet and made his way to him. Bowen Marsh was at the stables ordering some of the stewards to get two dozen mounts ready to ride. “My l-l-lord, I have letters from m-Maester Aemon that you should see.” The First Steward gave Samwell Tarly a dismissive glance. “It will have to wait until I return.” Sam didn’t understand, but his responses came out disorganized and incomprehensible. Bown Marsh touched a scar that he received on a bridge near the Shadow Tower before looking down at Sam “The day before last the Weeper was spotted outside the Shadow Tower and Denys Mallitser had sent a request for aid. The Lord Commander may be gone too long and I will not allow that Monster to attack our sworn brothers without facing the consequences.”[/FONT]
[FONT="]The North: Eddard IV[/FONT]
[/FONT][FONT="]“If the situation were reversed I would hand over the command of this army to Lord Umber and drag you down to Winterfell with a warhammer in my hand.” Robert said, angrily and without thinking. It took him a few moments before he roared in anger and frustration. “Damn it Ned, don’t you realize what is going on? Stannis’s lies have spread throughout the camps like wildfire and already your men have begun to suspect my boy. If Joffrey is suspected then my other children are suspected. I have known Joffrey has a dark side to him for a long time, I just never thought…” Eddard Stark added steel into his voice “that he would try to murder the sister of his betrothed? I do not care if Joffrey’s legitimacy is damaged Robert. I do not care if the monster loses his head.” Robert’s eyes shot upward and glared at Ned with murderous rage swelling within them. “I will not be the one to do that, as much as I would like to. Know this Robert, if these accounts are proven true I will not have that creature stay under my roof. There are lords that may wish to give shelter to him, let them feed and provide for him. The boy will never be a guest of Winterfell again. The betrothal is gone Robert. Sansa will marry a good man and true. I will never bend the knee to that creature either.” Robert stood his face reddening the words washing over him. Eddard Stark did not know whether or not Robert had understood his words, or if his anger had made him deaf. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]Jamie Lannister was dressed in the finest whites of the Kingsguard and he seemed almost amused by the argument. Apart from the Kingslayer, the King, and Eddard the tent was empty. Eddard Stark could only stare in disbelief at Jamie before being reminded of Robert’s fury. In the King’s hand a flagon of wine had shattered and blood was dripping from the remnants in his hand, yet he did not seem to notice as he motioned to pour. It was only when no wine filled his cup that there was an explosion, a terrible cry that Eddard had only heard in the fields of battle. The king punched the table before him with such force that the partially damp wood cracked. Unable to ignore the commotion several guards burst into the tent, fearing that there had been some kind of attack. One look from Robert sent most of them away, the few that remained were subject to another tremendous shout he could only get say one word “Out!” None remained in the tent after that, but Eddard Stark knew that a whole host of ears would be outside the tent. Jamie Lannister took advantage of the silence and smiled thinly at him. “Lord Stark, surely you speak out of emotional distress for I am certain you did not mean to say that you will not bend your knee to the next lawful ruler of the seven kingdoms?” Jamie brushed the hilt of his sword, a clear warning. One Eddard was deaf to, though it appeared as though the same could not be said for Robert. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]“Be Quiet! Go fetch me some wine if you have nothing better to do than blab with that Lannister tongue of yours.” Jamie’s smile disappeared and for a moment Stark wasn’t sure if the Kingslayer meant to make good on his name, but the moment washed over his face and visibly there was something of a shrug before he left the tent. “Do you mean to betray me for Stannis?” Robert asked bitterly. Ned Stark looked at the man who once called him closer than any of his living brothers. “Your grace,” Ned was speaking carefully then “you are my king and my friend, we have heard much and more about Joffrey from the north. You say Stannis will try to use this, that it will put the legitimacy of your children on trial, and all the other things you fear might come to pass. The war here is done Robert. Stannis fled to the Wall and will not return, we both know him too well to believe he will go back on his word. Some of my men will remain here and should Stannis even think of bestirring himself he will soon rue the day he ever departed north. I have followed you to war twice without any hesitation or doubts in my heart. What would you have us do except return south to Winterfell? What would you make me do after receiving this letter?” Robert shifted uncomfortably in his chair, but the anger was still on him. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]“I would have you leave this matter to me. Do you hear me Ned? Leave this matter to me. You say you don’t want Joffrey under your roof? Fine. I’m sure Lord Umber will like a prince as a ward. You say you don’t want Joffrey betrothed to your daughter? Fine. You have other children, as do I. I can see you are in no mood to hear of it now, but I’m stuck in the north for the time being so the time will come again. Does my consenting to half the bloody demands you gave me make me humble enough for you? If this matter is true and Joffrey did attack your daughter I will make certain he never touches another woman again until the day he’s wed. It will be at least that long until he can lift a sword after I’m through with him. You will kneel to him though, promise me this of you now Ned. You will kneel to my son when I am dead and gone.” By rights Eddard Stark should have been happy with this. In no small way he had won when this could easily have ended in blood, but why was he having such doubts? Joffrey is not your son Robert, that should be plain enough for you to see. Your queen has betrayed you, dishonored you with her treasons. Treasons conducted with her own brother, if that part can be believed. Why are you so blind? That would have destroyed Robert. The day he came to that realization would be the day that Robert would hand the crown over to Stannis and Eddard would lose his greatest and oldest friend. “I will Robert, I will kneel to your trueborn son.” It was a small betrayal, another that his friend was blind to.[/FONT]
[FONT="]The Wall: Jon IV[/FONT]
[/FONT][FONT="]“You know nothing, Jon Snow”[/FONT][FONT="] the memory came to Jon. It seemed cruel to Jon that the times would be reversed but Ygritte would still remain taken from him. Jon Snow had almost been close to telling his father and uncle about Ygritte and his feelings for her, but he could not betray her. His father may have been the one person who would be able to understand the truth, after all even Eddard Stark forgot his honor with a woman, if only for a night. Jon Snow had broken his vows with her in a way he did not when he was serving alongside the other free folk. For a few mad moments Jon had believed that Ygritte may have been south raiding, but Ygritte never climbed the Wall before and had mistaken a tower for a castle. She had never been south. The realization was like a punch in the stomach and it hurt. Dolorous Edd was fetching some lunch to break his midday fast, but Jon had forgotten all about that and was deep in thought when a stew was put in front of him. “What is it?” “A meat broth my lord, me thinks there may even actually be a piece of meat in it too. It might not even be a rat this time.” Jon had to smile. The sun had shown through the clouds, his men were better fed here in this camp than they had been at the Wall for some time, and he had his family back. No, you have no family. Your name is Snow and you said the words. There are only brothers now.[/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]Jon forced himself to remember that, but it only served to remind him that he did have a family and that they are only trip south away. Instead Jon forced himself to focus on his food and began to eat it. Jon had learned better than to look too close at his food when he had first travelled north, but here he was tempted. The stew actually looked like a stew and for that Jon was grateful. There would be no time to enjoy his meal, however. Robert Baratheon’s roar made Jon rise to his feet and immediately make his way to the King’s Tent. By the time he arrived the Kingslayer was leaving the tent. Jon could not tell if he was amused or angry, and the uncertainty troubled him. Jon looked around to find familiar faces and could only see Theon’s apart from his Black Brothers. The look Jon gave Theon was chilled and Theon had the grace to look ashamed when he noticed Jon’s glance. “What happened?” Jon asked the nearest of his brothers. “The Prince assaulted Lord Stark’s daughter with a sword.” Sansa! Could Joffrey truly be so mad? If my lord father believed my words to be true then this will end with Joffrey’s head mounted on a spike. Jon flexed the fingers of his sword hand. They had stiffened from disuse since Jon had left the Wall and its training yards. Jon was slowly rousing himself with fury at the thought of Sansa having to suffer from Joffrey’s abuses twice. Jon was half tempted to mount his horse and head to Winterfell with all haste, but when he looked around he remembered his color. “I am a brother of the Night’s Watch, I am the Watcher on the Walls, the Sword in the Darkness, the Shield that Guards the Realms of Men.” [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]Jon, bitterly, left the company of the gawkers to return to his tent. Jon found that he had no more taste for soup, broth, stew, or whatever was placed inside of his bowl. When Edd returned Jon spoke, half to himself “why were such ill tidings brought on the first good day the gods have given us in over a moon’s turn?” Why is history repeating itself Jon might have asked, but he knew in his heart that history would not repeat itself. If Sansa was hurt by Joffrey then Joffrey would never be King up in the north while the rest of the realm remained missing. Jon turned from mournful anger to a strange, mad laugh. “Edd,” Jon began “I think it’s time we’ve returned to the Wall.” An hour or so later Lord Stark paid Jon a visit, Jon had little doubt that he would be there to tell him the news. “How is Sansa?” Jon asked, almost as soon as Ned entered his tent. “Sansa if fine Jon, Arya is another matter.” Jon Snow stiffened, his sword hand flexed, and the anger that swelled within him was returning again. Arya!? Lord Stark immediately sensed his distress “She is unharmed Jon, she was quick enough to dodge the prince’s blows. Her direwolf is expected to live.” Jon was growing incredulous “where was Robb, where was the Lady Catelyn, where was” a brief awkward pause “was I?” For a brief moment Jon had thought that his father might have showed a thin smile, but it was quickly taken over by a shadow of pain. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]“You were the first to rush to defend Arya… had you not been there my daughter would be dead. Thank you Jon, though I will have to thank you again when I return south.” Ghost entered the tent silently, as if he were a white shadow. Jon’s father had grown used to seeing Ghost this size now, but when Lord Stark’s eyes fell on Ghost his father looked even more pained. “I do not understand how to say this. The you that you were was injured by Joffrey and the Hound. My Jon at Winterfell will take some time to recover, but Ghost may not survive.” Jon looked at ghost and without a second thought he reached down and petted his direwolf before bringing him close to embrace him. Jon knew that his Ghost was fine, he could see that plainly. But the thought of any Ghost dying had pained him beyond anything Jon could express in words. Ghost was a part of him, the part that the other Jon may lose. “I mean to head south with the King and learn the truth of this. You have my word Jon, if Joffrey is guilty of this there will be consequences.” Jon did not take much solace in that. Jon wanted to be the one to head south and avenge his sister and his direwolf. The Night’s Watch plays no part the thought crept up inside Jon’s mind and it was only then that he remembered his duty. Jon rose stiffly “My lord, if you are heading south I will leave Joffrey in your hands. My place is at the Wall, and I will count on you to stay true to your words both in this and with your promise of reinforcement.” Eddard Stark looked at his son for a long moment before giving his ascent. After some more words were exchanged the two departed, both bound for opposite directions come the morrow.[/FONT]
[FONT="]The Wall: Davos III[/FONT]
[/FONT][FONT="]“My lord” Axell began, looking the part of a flattering fool “there is no man who would be a truer and more just king than you. The lady Melisandre has seen in her flames. You are Azor Ahai and the wielder of lightbringer!” Stannis stared at him for a long moment. “Do you mean to say something worth my hearing or do you mean to prate on about stale reports. I am Azor Ahai and I intend to become king again if Robert bears no trueborn children, but I need no comfort or solace from you ser Axell.” Ser Axell seemed to become delighted with the prospect of King Robert’s death. He is a dangerous man Davos thought but would he lay a hand on one of Stannis’s own kin? Stannis surrendering his crown to his brother had brought nothing by disruptions to his ranks. Most of the Queensmen seemed to be in perpetual denial, making the trek back to the wall an unending wave of repetition. Every knight in his service and every wildling he had won over with threats and strength tried to persuade him, none more avid than ser Axell Florent. He will be a lord though Davos remembered, Stannis means to give him one of the Wall’s forts. [/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]Stannis, the man to which Davos owed everything he ever was or will be and the promising future that his children will have, had procured five forts on the Wall from Lord Commander Jon Snow. The Nightfort which will be Lord Stannis’s seat, Stonedoor which will be ser Axel Florent’s seat, Greyguard which will be ser Massey’s seat, the Torches which will be ser Horpe’s seat, and Oakenshield which Lord Stannis intends to be Davos’s own seat. Davos no more wanted to be Lord of Oakensheild than he had wanted to be Lord of Rainwood and said as much, but Davos would follow whatever his lord bid of him. “My lord because you are Azor Ahai come again you must face against the Great Other whose name must never be spoken and smash his dark minions.” Stannis was shifting uncomfortably in his chair, Davos noticed that Stannis always felt uncomfortable when he was brought into the role the red woman gave him in the name of his new red god. This was less true when it was only ser Axell, but Melisandre remained his red shadow even now. Melisandre’s grasp over Lord Stannis may have waned, but she still saw certain things in her flames and her magic was still real enough for Stannis to maintain whatever faith he may have placed in their god. Davos noticed that Melisandre’s red ruby throbbed as ser Axell was speaking. Ser Axell paused, as if the ominous nature of the message he was carrying would cause Stannis to consider. It did not. Much like the cold and stale conversations about how Stannis should be King, talk about Stannis’s war with the dark god was perhaps even more overdone.[/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]“I am aware of that ser Axell, I will carry on our war from the Nightfort. Yet, first among my concerns is Mance Rayder. The Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch informed us on our descent down that the pretender who burned was south of the wall when my brother feasted at Winterfell. I have no doubt that if he gets passed the Wall that he will be able to gather the whole host of wildlings again and this time when they march south I will not have the element of surprise. If Mance Rayder appears to have miraculously returned from the dead my wildlings may well prove as false as much and more of the southern lords that once gave me fealty.” Melisandre then moved and raised her voice “This pretender will not hold your grace.” Stannis gave Melisandre a look of disapproval but did not interrupt. “This ‘King Beyond the Wall’ will be half a stranger to the people he once called a subject. There are knives all around him.” Stannis clenched his jaw “Will the false king die or not?” Melisandre walked over to one of the nightfires in the tent and seemed to cradle the fire with her fingers. “I cannot be certain your grace, the flames of a man’s life cast many shadows. The false king seems to perish in half of my visions. In one of my visions the false king stood eyeless in the snow atop a rotting stallion with all the fiery warmth of life taken from him. The number of shadows that his flame casts that end with him alive are shrinking by the day, of that I am certain. This false king may wish to stand against you, but he is only hastening his death.”[/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]Stannis looked at Melisandre for a moment before his jaw tightened again. “What else do you see in your flames Melisandre? For all the certainties you’ve spoken I am left with only doubts. The wildling King Beyond the Wall’s number of paths that lead to life are dwindling, but they are not yet all snuffed out. You would have me wait for the treachery of his own comrades or for the world of the Great Other to deal him in while I sit around and do nothing. That I cannot do. I owe a duty to save all living men with fire in their breast and breathe in their lungs. Much and more will die in this war, but that does not mean I will resign myself to the sufferance of men. They will kneel to me and to the realm and I will let them through the gates if they agree to my terms. These were my words when I arrived at the wall a King, they will remain my words and true when I return a lord. From you I want certainties or I want you to have the courage to say you have none.” Davos Seaworth wondered if the Stannis still had any authority to let the wildlings through the Wall anymore, but Davos did not think that bringing that up would be of any use now. When Davos looked toward Melisandre, awaiting a response to the King’s request, Davos was certain he would never know the mind of the red woman. “I see you, your grace. Thin and young, much younger than you are, staring down on a field of golden flowers and an ocean of grapes. I see a young wolf gnawing on the bones of three dogs while a Lion makes a den out of a cave of bats. I see a silver queen presiding over bone and ash, mother of three flames. I see much and more your grace.”[/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]Stannis scowled. “I am no grace Melisandre and these are not certainties. They are riddles within riddles and if I am young in them then they are of a distant, dead past.” Melisandre looked at Stannis and with an unsettling and partly hypnotic gaze she continued. “These are certainties your grace and they are not of the past. These are the flames that I have observed of the present. The world has changed you grace. The skies and the seasons are not the half of it. Soon you will learn that the narrow sea and the sunset sea are no more and that the realm is divided by time and location in a way that even I did not think possible.” Stannis’s scowl did not relent. “Leave me woman and take ser Axell with you. I must think on this.” The two swiftly departed leaving none in the tent besides himself as his lord. “What do I call you now that you are not my hand?” Stannis asked Davos, as if only half remembering that he was still in the tent. “Whatever pleases you best my lord.” “‘My Lord’? Hah!” Stannis spat out the words venomously. “I am a lord of ruins Davos. I will return to the Wall a beggar now. Do you know about the Beggar King Davos? He was Rhaegar’s younger brother and the last true Targaryen claimant to the realm. While in the beginning people were warm to him and offered him a place in their rich manses they were deaf to his pleas for aid and some fool out to please my brother would try to kill him forcing the Beggar King to find a new patron. This went on for the entirety of my brother’s reign and it drove him mad and bitter to the point where the fool went against a Dothraki Khal.” Davos felt the need to answer that. “My lord, you are no Viserys and you will never be a beggar.” “Leave me Davos, I will need to tackle the idea that there might be two of me in the world. Two of R'hllor's champions.” If there are two of you, then the world is all the better for it, Davos might have said. Instead he left without another word. [/FONT]
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